


Vicious

by CrowKing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Darkest Timeline, F/M, Lannister!Reader, Murder, Slow Burn, Violence, baratheon!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowKing/pseuds/CrowKing
Summary: “Careful, my lord,” Gold Eyes interrupted him. “She learns from you. What she will become is not up to you however. She is Cersei’s first love, and Cersei’s worst fear. What she is will change the Seven Kingdoms.”The story of Lyanna Baratheon, the trueborn daughter of Robert and Cersei, and the Bolton Bastard and what happens when they decide to take the Iron Throne for themselves.





	1. Tiny Hands Hold Such Power

**Author's Note:**

> For people who follow me on tumblr, you've seen this coming. I've mentioned this project twice as "Project X" because i've put it off for so long. Please enjoy.

Gold Eyes sweated and tried to catch her breath. She did not run. She was in no danger, but her eyes locked on the newborn. She knew what she saw the night before. She had to tell him. She needed to say something. The middle-aged woman was decorated in gold for the house that vouched for her.

The Lannisters decorated anyone who showed them loyalty in gold, showering their wealth and love onto them. Gold Eyes was no exception. Although she was not the Lannister’s official seer, she was consulted numerous times including Tywin Lannister who swore up and down that he only believed in logic and reason. The future could not be told.

The nobility of court had lined up to greet the newborn to this world. Gold Eyes watched Robert smile. His muscular stature and grand height made him look like a hero, and his eyes lit up every time he said his new daughter’s name.

Lyanna. Lyanna Baratheon. 

Some had thought it was poetic to name his firstborn after the wolf girl he loved so much. Others had thought it was an honor to Lyanna Stark’s soul to carry on her name. Gold Eyes and other Lannisters thought it was cruel to Cersei to name her after a dead woman. 

Cersei cradled her daughter and held her close. Her long blonde hair was loosely braided. A red gown with golden details made Cersei look as beautiful as ever. She and Robert looked to be happy, excited parents. Cersei closed her green eyes and placed a chaste kiss on her daughter’s forehead. A blanket covered her and shielded her from the world.

Gold Eyes reached closer to the King and Queen. Her hands wrung over and over, hoping to find a sense of calm. Her mouth ran dry, but her gold eyes stayed locked on the princess of the seven kingdoms. 

She had replayed the events in her mind. No one asked her for advice. None of the Lannisters had paid her to do it either. She was simply curious for the future of Westeros. After what seemed like hours, Gold Eyes cried long and hard. She regretted what she saw.

Gold Eyes was blessed with the sight after her darkest days. She claimed that it was the Faith of the Seven who given her the gift. She knew better. Gold Eyes was a girl of the south, but her faith had been lost on her for years. Her sight was not a religious one, but a cursed one. A secret she kept to herself.

Robert was closer now. His laughter echoed through the room. His hands held his stomach to keep himself together. It must have been a very funny joke that another lord told him. Her eyes looked to Cersei again. Her soft voice cooed at the baby in her hands. Gold Eyes felt her heart swell. She knew that Cersei would love her children more than anything else in this world. A lord went to give Cersei a gift, but Cersei paid him no mind. The lord did not exist. No one did. The only thing that existed to her was the bundle in her arms. 

Gold Eyes stepped closer, reaching Robert finally. From far away, he looked like a king. A new, proud father who beamed at every well-wisher. Up close, Robert’s smile faded. She saw the signs of aging on his face. He formed a straight line with his lips.

“Seer, you have come to see my daughter or do you have ill visions to offer?” Robert asked. She looked up to him. The same straight line on her lips. 

“I have come to see my lady, Cersei,” she said. She kept her tone respectful. Robert never thought much of her abilities. Then again, Robert never thought much at all now a days. He didn’t need to respect her, but she had to respect him. She curtsied and made her way to the Queen.

Gold Eyes stepped carefully towards Cersei as if she was some quiet cat walking along a corridor. Her feet became paws, padded and quiet. She needed to be careful when approaching a lioness.

“My lady,” she called out to her, curtsying low before her. “I have come to share warm words with you.”

Cersei hummed and lowered her arms to reveal the princess’s face. Her dark black hair looked soft. Her eyes opened slowly to reveal green like her mother’s. She made no noise, and closed her eyes again. 

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Cersei said, never looking at Gold Eyes. “She’s all mine.”

“She is,” Gold Eyes responded.

“I feel honor. I feel love. She is love,” Cersei kissed Lyanna’s forehead.

“My lady, she will be so much more than love,” Gold Eyes told her. Cersei needed to know. Even if she was the only one to know, it would be enough.

“Of course,” Cersei chuckled. “She will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” Gold Eyes shook her head.

“No, my lady. I saw something.”

Cersei gripped onto her daughter. Again, the blanket had shielded her from view. Cersei’s eyes raised in concern. Her knuckles were turning white. Unlike Robert, Cersei believed in the sight. She knew what seers could see and how they warped the truth to her. She heard one before who told her she would marry a King. In the same breath, the same witch told Cersei all of her children would die. 

“What did you see?” Cersei asked aloud, her voice louder than before. Robert’s ears caught the conversation. Before Gold Eyes could say anything else, two kingsguard grabbed her arms and put her to her knees. She winced, but kept her eyes on the newborn. 

“You dare threaten my wife and child?” Robert’s voice boomed, catching the attention of every person in the court. 

“I would never threaten my queen,” Gold Eyes responded. Her eyes fallen to the babe once more. Her voice grew quiet. “I will admit, your child will receive many threats.”

“How dare—

“Careful, my lord,” Gold Eyes interrupted him. “She learns from you. What she will become is not up to you however. She is Cersei’s first love, and Cersei’s worst fear. What she is will change the Seven Kingdoms.”

“And what did you see?” Cersei asked in a hushed tone, drinking in every detail. “What is she?”

Gold Eyes looked up to Cersei, her true queen. Her eyebrows raised in concern, her eyes filled with guilt. She looked to Lyanna again and saw a tiny hand reach to Cersei’s face.

“She is power.”


	2. Two Letters

Lyanna knew what was happening before it happened. The world around her slowed down enough for her to realize that the events unfolding in front of her would change everything. Margaery fell back only a couple of steps, but caught herself. Her face covered in shock. Jaime rushed forward, pushing against anyone that would stand in his way. 

Her uncle Tyrion stood back, the same cold realization spread across his face as he turned to Lyanna. Lyanna’s green eyes caught a glimpse of Sansa leaving the scene. Her skirts gone before Lyanna could call to her. Tywin covered her brother Tommen’s eyes. He was too young to see this.

Cersei cradled her eldest son in her arms. Her tears coming down from her own green eyes. Her wails could be heard past the ceremony. Joffery didn’t have anything awful to say. Lyanna moved forward to see her younger brother. Awful choking noises came out of his body, entrails of the pie piled up where his mouth was.

He was purple. Blue veins popped out of his neck while red dripped from his nose. Margaery turned away from the horror, but Lyanna looked on. She watched her brother struggling to breathe while his head lay in his mother’s lap.

“Joffery, what is it?” Cersei pleaded. “Help him!” Joffery again had nothing to say. No one to torture. No one to ridicule. The only noise he could make was softer and harder chokes. He rose his hand reaching for his goblet one more time. You looked to see Tyrion pick it up.

The pieces were so easy to put together. It was all right there in front of Lyanna.

Lyanna looked at her brother one more time. His blue eyes were surrounded by red. His face entirely purple while blood stained his cheeks. Lyanna always thought of death as a beautiful and peaceful thing. Her father, Robert, had passed on so long ago. He was so at peace when she saw him last. His body had laid in the sept for days. He looked asleep. He deserved a final rest for the hard work he had done.

But this was not peaceful. This was not sleep. The blue in her brother’s eyes haunted her to her core. The last ragged breath was all she could hear before his bloodied eyes looked up to the sky. While everyone panicked, Lyanna heard the last squeak of breath that left her brother. His finger twitched and suddenly went still. 

The King was gone.

“He did this,” a hiss came from Cersei. Her lioness paws still held her son’s warm body. “He poisoned my son, your king.” Her voice raised with every word that came out of her. Lyanna felt anger cooking inside of her as she eyed her uncle’s every movement. 

“Take him! Take him!” Cersei repeated over and over. Her shrieks were clear. The kingsguard took Tyrion away. He did not fight. He did not curse. Tyrion went with them willingly as if he was guilty of the deed after all. 

Lyanna’s green eyes went to her brother’s once more. In death, his eyes were still open looking into nothing. Cersei wailed and screamed out of anger. Jaime was left sitting there in complete disbelief that he lost another king. Lyanna felt a hand wrap around her arm. 

“We need to go,” a voice said. “I’m taking you and Tommen away from here. You don’t need to see this.” The pull felt stronger than it needed to be, but Lyanna did as she was told. Tommen was hot on their tail, his eyes searched for some kind of answer.

“He’s gone.” Tommen kept repeating. “He’s gone from this world. How? Why?” The questions that Tommen inquired also burned inside Lyanna. Her silence was noted.

“He’s with your father now,” Markus Lannister told him. He led Lyanna and Tommen inside a secure room far away from the public eye and far away from any prying ones. Lyanna sat down and looked to Markus, awaiting instructions.

“What’s going to happen?” Tommen panicked. His hands trembled. Lyanna quickly took a hold of them. She knew how sensitive her youngest brother was. She kissed them and rubbed them in her own hands.

“You are King now,” she said quietly. “What happens now is up to you.”

“She’s right,” Markus said. “You are our next King. We need to keep both of you safe. Stay here. There’s guards just outside.” His blue eyes lingered on Lyanna before he left. Lyanna embraced her younger brother and held him tight. 

“Think of today as a nightmare,” she told him. “Tomorrow you will wake to greet a brand new day and you decide what you will make of it. It will be yours and yours alone, but for now hush. I am here now.”

The day that turned into a nightmare quickly turned into night. Lyanna tossed and turned and sat up. The only thing she could see is her brother’s eyes. The blue stood out against the red background. They looked into nothing. 

Days later, Lyanna stood over her brother’s body. She could no longer see his eyes, only the painted stones that were put into place. He laid so still that Lyanna could touch him and he wouldn’t be able to roar back at her. The sept was dark save for the sunlight that came through the stained glass windows. She could hear the crowds outside, waiting to mourn their king.

“I heard you haven’t been able to sleep,” Tywin greeted, stepping closely to his granddaughter. “Perhaps, I can give you what the maester prescribes to me when I find times troubling as this.”

“Thank you for your concern, grandfather,” Lyanna responded. “I expect I will be able to sleep soon now that I see Joffery put to rest.”

“I am sorry,” Tywin’s hand laid rest on her shoulder. “Losing someone is hard enough, losing a sibling is a different kind of darkness.” Lyanna faced her grandfather and let her honest thoughts known.

“He got what he deserved,” she said aloud. The thought occurred to her the day of when she finally went to sleep. She had heard servants sigh with relief knowing that Joffery could hurt no one else again. Lyanna also felt a wave of relief come over her. She felt guilty for thinking it, but she did not regret her answer to her grandfather.

“You’re right,’ he answered. Tywin was a military man. He thought in strategies and walked as if he was constantly playing chess. Tywin was not cold. He held Lyanna when she could barely walk. He would have private tea parties only with her. Tywin was a military man, but he was a family man first.

“I cannot speak these thoughts with my mother, but I know I can be transparent with you,” Lyanna touched Joffery’s cold hand that held his sword. “You and I know that he was a monster. And whoever did this wanted to be rid of him.”

“Yes,” Tywin continued. “But let’s not pretend to ignore the other factors. This was an attack on the Crown, on our family. What does this mean?”

Tywin often questioned Lyanna like this. He would present her with a situation, and as if she was the queen, Lyanna gave her best counsel. It was their private game. This time it was no longer a game. 

“It means a multitude of things. Our family is weak. We are vulnerable. The Starks look to be winning even when their King in the North is gone.”

“You’ve always been smart. Smarter than anyone I’ve known,” Tywin complimented. He glanced at Joffery. “If he had your head, I expect he would still be with us. But now is not the time for mourning, we must—

“Move forward,” Lyanna finished his sentence. “What do you propose we do?” 

Tywin stepped away from the body and held out his arm. “This is something you and I need to discuss in private.” Lyanna understood and took his arm. She felt her heart beat loud, but she kept a cool exterior. God forbid, her grandfather thought of her as weak. They left the sept with guards flanked at their sides, leading them back into the castle. 

The Hand’s quarters were reasonably sized and well-kept. Tywin kept everything in order and everything in its place. Lyanna sat in one of his chairs that he brought from home. It smelled of fresh earth, and Lyanna liked to smell things that were not of King’s Landing. 

Tywin served her a glass of strong wine. The scent pickled the air and made Lyanna’s nose twitch, but she was also her mother’s daughter. She loved wine as much as a knight loved his sword. Lyanna drank several gulps before looking to Tywin again. He held two letters in his hand.

“I must admit. I have won many wars, but I have never been the best at family matters. I have lost a grandchild. My youngest is guilty of the charge. My daughter is inconsolable.” Tywin laid the letters down before Lyanna. She saw a seal she did not recognize. It was a bright red, the same bright red that dripped down Joffery’s nose. Tywin started to pace the room.

“We need allies. We need people we can rely on. We need people who are loyal to us now more than ever. We have lost Joffery. I do not intend to lose any more of my grandchildren. I want to keep you safe. Are you understanding me so far?”

“Yes, grandfather,” Lyanna nodded. She put the goblet down on the table. This was much more serious than she thought.

“It is time for you to do your duty to the Crown and to this family,” Tywin said. “It is time for you to marry.”

“To marry Loras? As you said before?” Lyanna leaned forward.

“No, you marrying Loras was never my intention for you,” he confessed. “Lady Olenna forced me to agree to those terms, but now I’m breaking them. Your intended is in the North.”

“The North?” Lyanna knew about the North. When she went there, she remembered Sansa’s smiling face and warm hospitality. It contrasted with the bitter wind. The cold snow was foreign to see, but delightful to touch. She knew the majesty of Winterfell and felt the warmth the people provided there, she also knew several would want favor from the crown princess. “You mean to secure the North as our allies.”

“You are quick, my dear,” Tywin smiled, but it quickly faded away. “This also means I have to send you away. We won’t be seeing each other as much anymore.” Lyanna reached for her grandfather’s hand. She felt the need to hug him. 

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Tywin posed the question.

“For protecting me. For doing what’s right. I hope to make you proud,” Lyanna wrapped her arms around Tywin. Tywin placed a hand on top of her head, smoothing out her dark, black hair. 

“You already have, child,” he said quietly. “I will miss you more than you know.” Tywin and Lyanna stood there for a moment and let each other bask in the other’s warmth. Cold days were ahead of both of them.

“When do I leave?” Lyanna asked.

“Less than a fortnight,” Tywin pointed to the letters again. “Our future allies in the North responded immediately to the proposal. They are very eager to have you, and I am eager to get you out of here as quickly as I can.”

“Quickly as you can? Am I in danger?” Lyanna tried to read the letters, but Tywin took them away before her eyes could read any of the words.

“You are. If someone can successfully murder a king, I suspect they will want the entire dynasty coking to death in the set by the end of the week.” Tywin closed his mouth and sighed. “The further you are, the safer you are. I expect Myrcella is crushed, but she is safe in Dorne.”

She hated hearing the truth. Lyanna always expected to move away from her family when she married, but not like this. This felt more like fleeing than moving. She tried to calm herself as she wrote to Myrcella. Someone needed to tell her. Cersei had spent days in her bed, sobbing away. Lyanna did not blame her. 

One child was dead. One child was sent South without her permission. Another is being sent North without her knowledge. And her youngest faces a destiny he is not ready for.

Lyanna felt like sobbing over her letter to her sister, but restrained herself. She worded it as if it was miracle to finally marry. She hoped her future husband would welcome her with open arms and an open heart. She knew Myrcella liked to hear romantic stories. Lyanna liked them too, but she knew what reality brought. 

The North was cold, bitter, and filled with people who hated the Lannisters, her family. The Starks did not rule there any longer. Another family did. Whoever held the North, now held Lyanna’s fate.


	3. Parting Gift

When Lyanna was smaller, Cersei remembered holding her hand wherever they went in the Red Keep. Lyanna’s dark hair bounced behind her and she led Cersei to wherever she pleased. On this particular day, it was Lyanna’s own bedroom. It was much too large for a child her size, but she was a Princess, not just any high lady. Her bed was neatly made for her and piled with pillows and soft items like a doll that Stannis, her uncle, gifted to her.

Lyanna had her own tea table where Cersei would teach her basic etiquette. The wooden table had matching chairs appropriate for a growing princess. Tywin had gifted Lyanna the tea set on her second name day, hoping he would attend tea with her once she grew old enough. The septa could have easily taken over and teach her these lessons, but Cersei wanted to keep Lyanna to herself. She was a selfish woman, and Lyanna belonged to her no one else.

“And what do you say?” Cersei smiled down at Lyanna. Lyanna sat straight up and smiled.

“Thank you,” Lyanna said politely, trying to impress her mother. Cersei smiled, but touched Lyanna’s hand.

“Thank you, my lady,” Cersei corrected. “Always remember your titles. You are a princess. You need to know everyone and everything.” Her fingers brushed Lyanna’s soft skin. Cersei looked into her green eyes. She may have Robert’s hair and smile, but those eyes were hers. They were windows to her small soul. Cersei didn’t know what to expect from her first child. She was only happy she existed.

A small knock came to the door. A bit annoyed by the disturbance, Cersei stood up with a frown on her face.

“Enter,” she simply said. The door creaked open to reveal an old maester. His chains clinked as he tilted his head inside Lyanna’s bedroom. Cersei watched him exhale before he spoke. As if he was mentally preparing himself to be in the presence with a lioness. Cersei smiled. This was exactly the kind of power she liked the most. Not a single word was uttered, yet fear drove his actions.

“My Queen, I have some happy news to share,” he started, clearing his throat. “After our morning’s visit, I have come to a conclusion. I’m happy to share that you are pregnant again.” The maester smiled at Cersei, beaming in this good news. 

Cersei nodded and with a slight smile she spoke a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back to her first child. Lyanna sipped at the war raspberry tea. It was still too tart for the young one, so she squinted her eyes and closed her mouth tightly. 

Cersei offered her hand to her which Lyanna took immediately. This time, Cersei led them both to her bed. Cersei placed Lyanna on her lap and played with her hair. 

“You’re going to be a big sister,” she spoke softly. “Are you excited?” 

“Will he be nice?” Lyanna asked. 

“He? How do you know it’s a boy?” Cersei laughed at Lyanna’s prediction. Lyanna’s small hands touched her mother’s belly. A quiet came over both of them. Cersei watched her small fingers feel the fabric and maybe something else underneath. Something that couldn’t be touched by hands.

“I know,” Lyanna said.

Lyanna stood tall and held her mother’s hand. Both wore nothing but black. Lyanna was right. When Joffery came into the world, he was a boy. Neither Cersei nor Lyanna could have guessed what he would become after that. Lyanna didn’t think she would be looking at her younger brother’s crypt so soon. Part of it felt like relief. The pain and suffering he inflicted on others was now no more. He couldn’t break Cersei’s heart anymore. 

The other part felt like a growing anger. Not like a flower in a garden where things grew over time. This grew like a rumor or a lie told among the common folk. It spread faster than one could control and it grew into branches where one could not reach. It felt impossible and unexplained. Lyanna knew one thing: Sansa Stark and her uncle, Tyrion were to blame. It was too obvious. 

Both needed to die. 

Lyanna squeezed her mother’s hand once more before letting go. Her angry thoughts took her away from reality. She stepped one foot away from the crypt. 

“Stay here a while longer,” Cersei said aloud. Lyanna stepped back into her same spot.

“I don’t know how you can stand here and do nothing,” Lyanna commented.

“I am doing something. I am always doing something,” Cersei grabbed her daughter’s arm. Both looked over the crypt. Too new to have a statue put in place, but the soil was already settled into the ground. 

“Do you mean your eyes are doing something?” Lyanna asked, noting a single soldier who had kept his distance from them.

“Yes, my eyes are always watching, but for now Tyrion rots in a cell. His mind is constantly thinking of ways to get out when I have already killed him in my own mind.” 

Lyanna knew her mother was more devastated, angrier, and more vengeful than anyone. Her mother’s anger carried like a heavy weight across the floor. Cersei held tight to Lyanna as they exited the crypt. Their black dresses swayed and brushed the ground beneath their feet. They walked in time and quickly. Neither of them liked to be in the presence of the common folk.

“You leave tomorrow, correct?” Cersei asked. It was an odd subject. Lyanna was the one to tell her mother herself of the arranged marriage. Cersei was angered, just as much as she was angered by Myrcella’s departure. After an hour with Tywin, Cersei left in defeat, cursing under her breath.

Another daughter sold like a common whore.

Tywin was right. As much as Cersei hated it, her father presented a good point. After Joffery’s death, they were losing the battle. They need allies. Lyanna was at her prime. Now is the time. 

“I do,” Lyanna answered. “Do you think the North would welcome me?”

“With open arms and hearts,” Cersei spat. “Your namesake comes from the North.” Lyanna stopped in her tracks and faced her mother. Her eyes blinked and her lips parted.

“You’ve never told me that.”

Cersei’s eyes turned cold. Her eyes looked over her eldest’s dark hair and imagined a crown of blue roses atop her head. The, Cersei saw Lyanna’s eyes. The same green eyes she had. The same that greeted her when she opened them for the first time.

“Perhaps, it’s time you know about Lyanna,” Cersei led her daughter towards her own private chambers. The windows were open and let the sun shine into her room. It made her room warmer than most, but Cersei enjoyed the heat. It often agreed with her.

“The Starks ruled the North as you know,” Cersei started. “There was a young lady by the name of Lyanna Stark. She was Lord Eddard’s older sister. And she was set to marry your father, Robert.”

Lyanna sat in her mother’s favorite chair. It smelled of the ashes from her fire. A look of confusion swept across her face. The slow realization set in.

“She died.”

Cersei nodded. “She did. I don’t know how. Lord Eddard didn’t speak of his sister after he discovered her dead. At first, it haunted me. What true terrors did he witness for him to never speak of his dearest sister again? But then it angered me.”

“Angered you?”

“Your father was a dream to marry. I felt so happy until later that night. Drunk, disappointing, and awful, he climbed on top of me and only said her name. Your father never loved me. His heart belonged to a ghost.”

“So why do I bare her name? She’s not a Lannister or a Baratheon. She’s a Stark.”

“Robert pleaded with me for days. He said he wanted to pass on her memory. When I presented you to him, the first act he wanted was to place a crown of blue roses on your head. He loved you more than he had ever loved anyone else. At the time, I wanted to make him happy. So, Lyanna it was.”

Lyanna remembered her father. He held her hand and placed her on his lap during the cold nights. He would carry her out onto the balcony to wave to the common folk. She also remembered the first time she smelled too much ale from her father’s mouth and how sometimes he would go to bed with multiple women—none were ever her own mother.

“I am named after the woman my father loved.” The words were colder than Lyanna was comfortable with. She often tried to believe that her mother and father loved each other. She wanted to say that the love between her mother and father died, but now she can’t even claim there was ever a love to begin with.

“Do not doubt my love for you,” Cersei’s hand smoothed out hairs on top of her head. “I used to hate her. The woman he would call out in bed. The woman he yearned for. She is ashes. So is your father. You are flesh and blood. You are here. You are neither of them, and you are mine.”

“Even when I am to be a Northman’s wife?” Lyanna let a smirk go on her lips. 

“Until the day I am ashes,” Cersei smirked back. “You are my child.”

A silence fell between both of them. The wind blew into Cersei’s chambers. It moved small leaves across the floor. Hair blew in front of Lyanna’s face. Cersei pushed it away and tucked it behind her ear. Cersei’s sad smile was almost seen by no one but her own children. She swallowed.

“I will miss you,” Cersei finally said. “Just as I miss Myrcella.” Lyanna’s bottom lip trembled. She stood up and wrapped her arms around her mother. Cersei’s arms held Lyanna together.

“I will miss you too,” Lyanna said in between heavy sobs. “What if I hate there?”

“You won’t.”

“What if you’re wrong and I do hate it there?” Lyanna asked. Cersei held onto her tighter.

“Then I will bring you back here. No matter the cost to me.”

Dawn was a beautiful time of day in King’s Landing. The sun’s rays touched the faces of the early risers: the bakers, the knights, and the mothers. It touched Lyanna’s face and gently warmed her cheek. She watched others pack her things into a carriage that held food, water, and ale. 

The large horses exhaled. Lyanna could see the air expel from their nose. This particular morning was colder than usual. Cersei’s hand slid across her daughter’s shoulder blades.  
“I’ve brought you something,” she said to her quietly. “A wedding gift of sorts.”

“Mother, you’ve already presented me with numerous gifts.” Lyanna turned to see Cersei holding a red and gold dagger. The sheath was dominantly red, but the tips were gold. The blade was sharp and new.

“I never had anyone warn me. My mother died when I was young. Still, no one told me,” Cersei quietly explained. “The day he tries to harm you, use this. And use it with no remorse.” Lyanna took the dagger slowly and hid it among her red skirts.

“Who exactly am I marrying?” Lyann asked earnestly. Cersei swallowed and squeezed her daughter’s hand.

“Your sister was lucky. Trystane is a gentleman,” her eyes could not meet Lyanna’s.

“What does that mean?” Lyanna asked. She felt her heart drop. Cersei eyed someone approaching them. Lyanna turned to see a man dressed in red and gold like most of the Lannister vassals. His beard was salt and pepper, but it constantly smelled of cinnamon. He stood before the two women and waited for some response.

“Good morning, Aeron Payne,” Cersei spat. “What do you want?”

“Your daughter,” he smiled. “It is time to depart, my lady.” Lyanna shot a look back to her mother. Cersei squeezed her hand once more. Her mouth right next to her ear.

“Look at your husband’s sigil. Then you will know. You will understand what kind of man he is.” Cersei kissed the top of her daughter’s head and left with guards. Lyanna was left in a whirlwind. What kind of man was she to marry? What was his sigil? And why for fuck’s sake could she not remember who ruled the North?

It bothered her like bumps in the road. Every time she would feel a bump, the carriage would shift or bounce. The carriage shifted once more, and Lyanna’s side veered right. King’s Landing had shifty roads, but once the caravan was on the king’s road, everything should be fine. At least, that’s what Lyanna told herself. 

From the carriage window, she watched Ser Aeron Payne ride his horse. Her mother never respected him, so neither did she. That was one of many things that passed down from Cersei to Lyanna. They disliked the same people. Ser Illyn Payne had been a pain in her ass, and so was his brother, Aeron. 

Tywin appointed him to escort her to Winterfell anyways. He had been a knight for years, but his brother, the former King’s justice, always outshined him. Lyanna rolled her eyes and thought nothing else of the try-hard brother. 

On the other side of the carriage rode Markus Lannister. One of many cousins in King’s Landing. His blonde curls and blue eyes usually gave it away. If it wasn’t for his physical looks, it was his attitude. Lyanna always told her ladies-in-waiting that the Lannister knights and squires were arrogant, but that Markus was the worst of them all. He always did his job well. Markus become Lyanna’s personal guard when she was only ten, and Cersei deemed it okay for her to roam around as she pleased, as long as her older cousin was there beside her.

Then a saying started to float around the castle. 

‘Wherever the doe goes, so does the lion.’

Markus was more than a personal guard and a cousin. When times of trouble or confusion came, Markus often guided her. Much like how Ser Gregor guided and reassured Cersei. His presence always helped. 

Lyanna sat back in the carriage seat and relaxed. The North was a long way from home. This was going to be a long ride.


	4. Gray Dress

The cold, northern winds bit the ears of Ser Aeron Payne as his horse’s hooves clopped through the thick dirt. His squinted eyes finally saw Winterfell; it shouldn’t be too long now. He nodded his head towards his right hand man, Ryon, who took the lead. Ser Aeron clicked his tongue and rode towards Lyanna. 

She opened her window reluctantly, frowning at the cold air streaming into her carriage. Her eyes hurt at the brightness of the snow. When she gained focus, she saw Ser Aeron smiling. His smile was like a raccoon showing its teeth like it had won some prize.

“We are in sights of Winterfell, my lady!” He said to her. “Perhaps you would like to freshen up nearby in an inn?” Lyanna nodded and waved Ser Aeron off. It had been a little over a month with this man and all Lyanna wanted to do was kill him. She didn’t remember the last trip to Winterfell being this long. Then again, Ser Aeron Payne wasn’t in charge of leading that trip. Competent men were.

She inhaled the cold air once more before closing the window. The warmth slowly returned while she nursed her eyes. Snow was so bright and pure. She had taken delight in hearing stories from cold, faraway lands she had never been to when she was young. Markus would often tell her that giants ruled north of the wall and that they would eat her if she came near. Now, it was time to know. Who really ruled the North?

The closest inn to Winterfell sat not too far from Winter Town. Smoke came from the chimney and Lyanna smelled the scent of fresh bread and ale when she walked through the doors. Once she was in a room, Markus came in, looking more annoyed by the minute.

“One of the barmaids down there said it’s going to snow more tonight,” he huffed. “Isn’t the heavy snow enough? Must it snow more?”

“It is the North, it snows often here,” Lyanna said mostly out of boredom. She was exhausted from the long journey, but the only ones to complain about it were the men around her. She rolled her eyes, but continued to listen to her curly haired cousin. 

“Everyone’s eating down below. Your ladies should be up here to dress you soon enough. Then we’ll meet the bastard.”

“You speak so ill of him. You haven’t even met him.”

Markus opened the door, looked around, and shut it behind him once more. His face more serious than before when he turned to Lyanna. “I think we should talk about our plan. The one from long ago.”

Lyanna’s face fell. “Markus, you want to discuss this now? As I am to meet my husband?”

“I don’t think you should marry this man,” Markus asserted. He grabbed Lyanna’s wrist and pulled her close. “We could go, you know. Get away from here. Disguise ourselves.”

“And what? Live out our lives in the North? With what resources? We don’t know this land.”

“No one knows who we are here. It would be easy,” Markus urged. “We could get someone who could marry us and—

Lyanna grabbed her cousin by his arm. “Markus, we’re not discussing this. It was an idea long ago when we were foolish. We travelled to the North so I could marry the heir to Winterfell.”

Markus huffed. “Targaryens loved each other to keep bloodlines pure. They did it to keep each other safe. Don’t you want that?”

“I do. That’s why I’m here. Marrying a Northman. To make allies. To keep my family safe,” Lyanna spoke through her teeth. “I’m not discussing this with you anymore. Leave me.” Markus let her go and turned to leave, but not before he had the last word.

“During this whole ride here, has anyone told you who exactly you’re marrying? Do you know his name? His banners? His family? What they did? There’s a reason the Starks banner doesn’t fly in Winterfell anymore. There’s a reason why they all lost their faith in the gods. Next time, maybe you’ll be thankful that I come between you and your betrothed.”

Lyanna felt as if she was about to burst. First it was her mother who gifted her the dagger. Then, it was anyone who she asked. No one seemed to give a concrete answer. Now, it was Markus bringing all of this information to the light. Lyanna didn’t know who her future husband was. No one said anything good about him which she decided to take in stride. Tywin and the Crown need allies, not friends. The ore terrible these people were, the better protection they could provide for the family.

Markus was right about one thing. After her ladies were done eating, they greeted her inside the room to dress her to meet her new family. There was three girls; all from noble families themselves. The eldest was Lysa who was tall and had the softest hands. Her father was an impressive merchant who sold spices. Lyanna has often asked Lysa for stories about the East where the most exotic spices were traded and grown. Theodosia enjoyed eating so much that it showed on her stomach. Lyanna always thought Theodosia’s purple eyes were very pretty. They would joke that she was secretly a Targaryen who slipped just under Robert’s nose. The youngest was Allyis. She was only fourteen, but she proved herself to be the most dangerous of them all. Allyis enjoyed gathering and keeping secrets for Lyanna. Information and threats for Allyis were like candy for children. She consumed them with glee.

They often enjoyed each other’s company, but today Lyanna’s girls were silent. Lyanna had already picked every piece of her outfit and they just helped her dress. Markus’ words played over and over in Lyanna’s head. The silence of the room made it worse. Every second that ticked by was another second she went unknowing who her husband was. 

She wore gray dress. It flowed off her enough to make her pretty, but thick enough to keep her warm. A golden lion mane was wrapped around her shoulders. The last thing were her gloves that matched her dress. Beautiful green jewels adorned her neck, ears, and head. Although Lyanna considered herself to be beautiful, she wondered if her betrothed would think the same thing. 

There’s the thought again. The silence of everyone around her. Her mother’s gift. Markus’s ill words. She turned to the one who spoke the most.

“Allyis, what do you know of the North?” She asked. Allyis swallowed hard. She tucked away some of her light brown hair.

“I know it is cold, my lady,” she answered.

“What do you know of Winterfell?” 

“I know the castle is grand and a sight to behold.”

“Allyis. I know you know more than that. You are not my lady because you tell me things I want to hear. You are my lady because you’re resourceful and smart.” Theodosia shook her head at Allyis. 

“Perhaps, we can fetch you a bite to eat or something to drink, my lady?” Lysa offered. “Winterfell isn’t far, but the way here was long. I’m sure you’re only hungry.” 

“Do not distract me, Lysa. What’s happening here? Tell me.” Lyanna crossed her arms and waited. She knew Allyis would break first. As fearless as she was, Allyis only feared Lyanna and her wrath.

“It was your grandfather, my lady,” Allyis confessed. “He paid us. Made us promise to not speak of your betrothed. Not just us. Everyone.” 

“Why?” Lyanna asked. Allyis looked at the door. “No one will hear you. If they do, you will not be punished. Now tell me why.”

“I didn’t take the money. None of us did.—

“Thank you. That is kind,” Lyanna waved off. “But answer my question.”

“He didn’t tell us why. Just to not tell you certain things. I went and did my sniffing anyways. Do you remember the Red Wedding?”

Lyanna’s heart burned. Of course she did. She was there with Sansa when she had heard the news. She remembered Sansa collapsing into her arms and holding her there. She didn’t want to imagine the pain that poor girl felt. Losing her mother, her brother, his wife and unborn child, and so many men loyal to them in a single night. She understood Sansa’s pain, but also understood that the Starks needed to be stopped in any way possible.

“Yes, why?”

“The alliance was between the Lannisters, the Freys, and the Boltons, a noble house that once served the Starks. The Boltons are in control of Winterfell now. It was gift to them for the success of the Red Wedding. Lord Roose Bolton is the head of the house.”

“So I’ll be marrying him I imagine. He’s older than I thought—

“No, my lady. I thought so too. Until I heard Lord Roose Bolton took a wife. Lord Walder Frey promised Roose he would pay a dowry worth his bride’s weight in gold. So, Roose took Fat Walda to marry and became the Lord of Winterfell and a very rich man.”

“Oh, I see,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “Then who is it?”

“Your betrothed is his son, my lady,” Allyis swallowed again, her breath a bit shaky. “Ramsay Bolton.”

“Oh? His son? How old is he? Around Robb Stark’s age I believe?” Lyanna asked. Her and Robb were close in age somewhat. 

“Older, my lady. I was told he’s a few years older than you. And a bastard.” 

“A what?” Lyanna blinked and nearly stopped breathing. “I am to be married to a bastard.”

“Your brother, the king, is legitimizing him. Tywin refused to marry you to him unless he was made legitimate.” The horror that Tywin Lannister would stoop so low to marry off Lyanna to a bastard to just make allies chilled her to the bone. How desperate were they? Was the situation that dire?”

“What else do you know of Ramsay Bolton?”

Allyis’ breath shook once more. Her eyes looked straight into Lyanna’s Gold specks stood out against her brown eyes. As if she was hawk, always watching.

“You’re not marrying a man. You’re marrying a monster.” 

Maybe it was the silence or the lack of enthusiasm around her. Maybe it was her dear cousin’s ill words towards her as he left her. Or maybe it was her mother secretly teaching her what marriage truly was and the dagger was her final test. Lyanna wasn’t surprised at all to hear the words. Her betrothed is a monster. No wonder why no one told her. 

Lyanna straightened herself and took Allyis’ hand. “Good. I would rather marry a monster who will kill every enemy in front of me than a coward who will let me watch my family die.”

Lyanna pushed past her girls and continued onwards. If she moved, so did the caravan. It took no less than a half hour to reach Winterfell’s gates. Lyanna’s carriage moved her inside the castle gates where she eyed all of Winterfell’s dwellers. Some looked dirty and covered in coal or dirt. Others cleaned up for the greeting. Lyanna took Markus’ hand as she descended from the safety of her carriage. Hair whipped around her.

The sky was quickly turning into a deep, dark gray. Clouds seemed to become heavy and dreadfully enormous. A slight rumble tickled Lyanna’s ear. 

‘We just arrive, and there’s a storm coming,’ Lyanna thought to herself. She half-smiled at Markus who only nodded and guided her over to an older man. His graying hair matched his furs around his shoulders. He smiled with no teeth. If he did, it would be unnatural. The woman staying next to him had kind eyes, the ones you would see on a baby deer. 

“My lady,” Markus started. “I present to you, Lord Roose Bolton of Winterfell, and his wife Lady Walda.” Lyanna nodded her head. Of course this would be the new leaders of Winterfell. An aging, brutal military man and his unknowing wife. She offered her hand to Roose who took it firmly, almost wanting to keep the grip on her and kissed it.

“Welcome Princess Lyanna,” Roose greeted. “Was your journey rough?” Lyanna thought of Ser Aeron Payne and his misguided ways and ill-fated plan to reach the North. She saw his shit-eating smile out of the corner of her eye. 

“Not until the end. It seems my men are not used to your cold weather,” Lyanna said politely. Roose returned her politeness with a half-smile. A thunderclap distracted them all. Lyanna looked up to the sky to see how much it was darkening. Gray and heavy clouds filled the sky overhead. Lyanna heard another crack in the sky. It didn’t faze the Northman in front of her. 

“It’s come early. Better to get you inside before it starts.” As Roose turned to lead everyone back inside, another young man came walking in the opposite direction. His dark head of hair matched his father’s. His face was twisted and he held his stomach. Roose sighed. “My lady, this is my son, your betrothed, Ramsay Bolton.”

Ramsay Bolton stood in front of Lyanna with his eyebrows furrowed and out of breath. He still clutched his stomach. Lyanna could spy the green in his face. He must be disgusted with her. Lyanna rolled her eyes and offered her hand. Ramsay looked to his father who nodded. Ramsay took Lyanna’s hand and placed a chaste kiss on it. 

The sky cracked again, letting everyone know its presence. Both Ramsay and Lyanna looked to the sky and then back to each other. Lyanna could barely hear the words of Allyis muttering under her breath to Lysa.

“Isn’t meeting your betrothed before a storm a bad sign?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be good,” Lysa whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. I am currently doing my best to work hard on this fic and update it regularly. Again, thank you for your patience. Please let e know what you think.


	5. Lost Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for your patience. I'm very much enjoying writing this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter! As always, I'd love to know what you think.

The storm raged against the castle. The winds took leaves off the ground and moved them far from their home. Branches thrashed against one another. One branch cracked from a godswood tree and fell to the ground. Storms in the North could be terrifying. Lyanna backed away from the window to find her cousin in the room. She sharply flinched and he laughed.

“Is the North truly that terrifying, cousin?” Markus chuckled.

“No.” Lyanna shook my head.. “You must admit that this storm is nasty. I’m glad we got here when we did.”

“Aye,” he responded. 

A short, sharp knock came at the door. Both turned to see Ramsay Bolton looking back at Lyanna. He was dressed appropriately for the weather outside, and in his hand he held a lit candle. 

“Ramsay, what can I do for you?” she asked. Ramsay’s blue eyes stared back into her green ones. For a moment, he seemed to be more lost in thought than present. Lyanna was about to ask again when she watched him snap out of it.

“My father, Roose, wishes to have you at tonight’s dinner,” he said. “In lieu of a tour. He wished to hold off due to…” Ramsay gestured to the weather. 

“Thank you,” Lyanna nodded. “I will be there.” Ramsay walked away with the lit candle. The small light following him down the corridors. A small interaction, but a meaningful one. Cersei left her a dagger for him. Allyis’ words warned her of him.

“You’re not marrying a man. You’re marrying a monster.”

He only invited her to dinner. He clutched his stomach at the sight of her. Not much of any kind of monster. Lyanna shrugged it off and pushed Markus out of the room so she may change for dinner. Allyis, Lysa, and Theodosia flocked to her as they assisted her in changing.

“Black, my lady?” Lysa asked out of curiosity.

“I wish to make a statement. I’m still grieving for my brother. Joffery meant the world to me, and now he’s gone.” Lyanna told them while stepping away to her vanity. Red jewels adorned her neck as if she had been sliced open. It would’ve been the kinder death than the one her younger brother faced. Her girls stayed mostly silent.

“I know what your thoughts are. I know what he did to you.” Lyanna continued. “I remember him striking me when I defended all of you. I’m not blind. Joffery was a monster. He deserved every bit that happened to him. I imagine my Uncle Tyrion enjoyed every bit poisoning him.”

“The trial,” Allyis said to herself. “I expect your uncle is in the dungeons by now.”

“That’s exactly where he should be,” Lyanna said. Her harsh tone was noted by her girls. Theodosia tied her hair back in a hybrid of north and south hair with black ribbons. With Markus as her escort, Lyanna entered the dining hall for dinner. 

The private dining hall was intimate and strange to Lyanna. It was larger than the one she shared with her family, and instead of windows that displayed Blackwater Bay, there was snow. Fire raged inside the large fireplace where ancestral swords and shields were displayed. The Bolton banners were hung on each side of the fireplace.

At the table sat Roose and his wife, Lady Walda Frey, at the head of the table. Ramsay, who still looked sick, sat quietly and stared at his empty plate. Ser Aeron Payne sat proudly next to Roose and bragged on about his victories that Roose did not care for. Another vistor joined them. One that Lyanna did not anticipate. 

“Uncle Kevan?” she said aloud. Kevan Lannister was a bit rounder than his older brother, Tywin. He still had the blonde hair and green eyes like any Lannister would, but he wasn’t considered handsome by most of the family. His grand sword and crimson velvet grments made him look prettier than he was. Cersei saw him as exhausting. Lyanna saw him as a constant pillar in her own upbringing.

“It’s good to see you, Lyanna,” he greeted her with an embrace and kiss on the head. Something familiar meant much ore to her now more than ever. “I am sorry about your brother. Are you still grieving?”

Lyanna nodded. Her eyes welled up, but she shook it off. The Boltons couldn’t know that she was weak. 

“When did you get here? I didn’t see you here,” Lyanna inquired.

“Days before you. I had a feeling Ser Aeron Payne’s skills would get you here later than we hoped. I’ve come to settle our alliance with the Boltons. And to make sure you’re comfortable here.” Kevan glanced back at the table and stepped closer to Lyanna, speaking in a voice only she would hear. “The North is much more dangerous than you think. I’m not leaving you here until I know you are safe.”

“Uncle,” Lyanna’s brows knitted together. “is there something I should know?” The question hung in the air between the both of them. Her ladies-in-waiting told her the truth about Ramsay Bolton. She wanted someone to fess up. Her great uncle shook his head.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” He patted her back and offered her a seat. Lyanna let out a long sigh before sitting directly across from Ramsay. After the food was served, Lyanna watched Ramsay push around his food and say next to nothing other than nodding at his father’s comments and chewing his food. This monster that was described to her was nothing more than just a man slightly older than her who was sick.  
She wasn’t impressed. 

After dinner, the storm had finally quelled. Fresh snow sat undisturbed on Winterfell as everyone cozied up inside the palace. Lyanna took time to write a letter to her sister, Marcella, who like her was in a different world arranged to marry a man she barely knew. From her sister’s letters, Marcella had confessed to falling in love with Trystane. How deep his voice had become, how smooth his dark skin was, and how he tasted like oranges. 

Lyanna’s mind slipped away as she tried to think of Ramsay the same way. His dark mess of hair was a bit boyish, but his eyes seemed to have something behind them. He wore thick layers of clothing. Lyanna didn’t know if he was fit or stout. He was quiet or normal to her. Why would people describe him as a monster?

Still, could she fall for him like her sister fell for her sunshine? Possibly. Lyanna always liked darker boys. She once had a small crush on a particularly sadistic knight named Dom. In tourneys, Lyanna would watch him beat his opponents to a bloody pulp. Once, he won the king’s tourney and presented a crown of flowers to her. She had only been thirteen. Her face flushed with color. Robert was almost too drunk to notice it, but then he saw Ser Dom have a certain twinkle in his eye. 

It wasn’t long after that Ser Dom wasn’t seen again. 

“My lady?” a croaky voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Ramsay Bolton, standing there, waiting for a response.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Lost in thought.” Lyanna covered up her letter to Marcella and pushed it aside. “Writing to my sister. Do you have any siblings?”

“I had one, yes.”

“Had?”

“He died from sickness,” Ramsay explained. “He was my father’s firstborn and his only trueborn. Unfortunately, he was a weak boy.” Lyanna frowned. She didn’t realize losing a sibling would be the first thing they had in common.

“Ah,” she reacted. “I assume you understand my pain then. Losing a brother is…indescribable.”

“I can’t say I’ve known my brother as long as you have known yours,” Ramsay offered his hand to her. She accepted it as she took his arm. They both began walking through the corridors. “But perhaps you and I view death differently. Here, death is common thing. I feel nothing about it. You people in the South are safer with your pretty armor. Death is not common especially among the rich.”

“You didn’t mourn your brother?” Lyanna asked, searching his face for an emotion.

“No. Why would I? His illness would have made us look weak to enemies. They would’ve taken the Dreadfort from us. Better to get rid of the weak to move us forward.”

“I agree,” Lyanna said. Ramsay stopped them both. He turned to her in surprise.

“You agree?”

“How can we have a legacy or a dynasty if we leave the weak ones to lead? That’s asking for an entire family to be forgotten or killed.” Ramsay smirked and started to hum the Rains of Castamere. Lyanna cracked a smile, knowing the tune.

“I’ve forgotten how proud your family is of their revenge. A Lannister always pays their debts?”

“We do, but those are not our words.”

“They might as well be. People up here live in fear of the Lannisters. There was quite the disagreement among the folk here.”

“I’m assuming those loyal to the Starks are not keen on the idea of having me here,” Lyanna smiled. 

“Your namesake is entirely northern. They should be proud someone of your status is here,” Ramsay glared at a guard who watched you both. The guard nodded and continued his way back to his post. “Besides, anyone who is loyal to the Starks are gone. Anyone who tells you otherwise can be sent my way.”

“Thank you,” Lyanna nodded. Ramsay grabbed onto her bedroom door handle and opened it. 

“Tomorrow morning, I should like to take you around Winterfell on horseback. Get you used to your new surroundings.” Ramsay’s eyes watched for her reaction.

“I should like that.” Lyanna nodded and closed the door behind her. He was nice. Nicer than a monster, she supposed. Maybe he was just sick. His voice was croaky. His eyes had bags under them. Getting to know your own husband was harder work than she thought. She wondered if her mother had any advice. She made a mental note to write to her soon. 

Lyanna untied her cress and corsets, letting the fabric fall to the floor. She felt free of the constant tightened strings and felt like she could breathe more freely. She felt the idents in her skin where the corset was tightened the most. Her fingers rubbed over them, feeling the bumps and waves it made.

She slipped on a simple sleeping gown and wrapped herself in the thick fur blankets that Kevan had gifted her earlier. He called it ‘a housewarming gift’ to welcome her to her new home. If Lyanna was going to be the Lady of Winterfell, that morning tour was necessary. Lyanna needed to deeply know her new world in order to rule it.

She could hear her mother now. Power is power. She remembered that encounter with Littlefinger. She remembered the shadow of a smile she slyly gave to her mother, but she disagreed with her. Power is not power. Knowledge is power. The more you knew about everyone, the further you could get ahead. 

The sky was darkening now. Everything was silenced to a hush. Knowledge wasn’t as important as sleep should be. Lyanna felt her eyes drooping. A deep yawn escaped her mouth as she laid in the soft bed. 

Maybe it was because she was exhausted. Or maybe she was half-asleep. Lyanna heard someone outside her window. She rubbed her eyes and went to look through it. Nothing. No one was outside. Not a single footprint disturbed the fresh snow. 

‘Lyanna…you’re home…Lyanna…you’re home.’

It was an old voice. One that had known years and years of living. It creaked and croaked and repeated the same thing over again.

‘Lyanna…you’re home…Lyanna…you’re home.’

Lyanna looked again. She had to be mistaken. Someone was outside in the cold. Talking to her. Again, there was no footprints in the snow. Not a single creature walked out from the woods. All Lyanna saw was the old godswood tree. Snow weighed down some of the leaves and branches. It stood tall and proud. Its eyes cried out a red, thick sap that streamed down its face as if it wasn’t too happy to see her.


	6. Winter Town

Lyanna sat in a room where men decided her fate with marriage. She imagined her mother and grandmother had the same pleasure as she did. She drank another gulp of wine while the men argued over the ‘bedding ceremony’.

“It is customary for there to be witnesses,” the maseter argued. “There needs to be proof that the deed was done.”

“You realize how old that practice is? Joffery never had a bedding ceremony,” Lord Roose Bolton pointed out. Your Uncle Kevan filled in the details.

“He never made it that far, Roose,” Kevan corrected. Roose gave him a look.

“He never made it—

“Poisoned after a piece of cake. He never touched Margaery,” Kevan glanced at you and then back to Roose. “Tommen never had a bedding ceremony either. I trust that we would extend the same courtesy to my grand-niece.”

“Tommen is King of the Seven Kingdoms. He can do as he wishes,” the maester stood his ground. “Like it or not, there needs to be proof that Lyanna is a virgin and she and Ramsay have consummated the marriage.”

“Oh, it will be done witness or no witness,” Roose smirked. Lyanna cocked her eyebrow until she read between the lines. Roose implied how sexual his son was, and that he knew about it. Lyanna kept quiet, letting thoughts about him fog her mind.

He was sick when they first met. Almost as if he was afraid of her. Both of them lost their brothers due to poison. He escorted her back to her own room. Yet, she could not ignore Kevan’s appearance here. Her mother’s gift to her. Her cousin’s hints and her ladies-in-waiting whispered rumors. 

And now Roose started to argue that his son was aggressively sexual. Something was off, and it bother Lyanna that she was in the dark about most of it. She decided that marriage talk was too annoying to bear any longer and escorted herself out of the room. 

She made her way out onto the courtyard where the air bit her cheeks and was sharp to breathe in. A group of horses made their way inside the gates, Ramsay leading them. The second man jumped off his horse and carried the weapons towards storage while the third and fourth men carried back carcasses of animals. Each doe had holes in their heads, one had an eye hanging from its socket. It dangled and wiggled as they were carried to the kitchen.

“Lyanna?” Ramsay called out to her. Lyanna’s attention snapped to Ramsay on his horse. His wet locks made his hair darker. His gloved hands held onto the horse properly. His bow and arrow were carefully secured to him. He looked more like hunter than a Lord’s bastard.   
“Good morning, Ramsay,” she responded. “I suppose your morning hunt went well.”

“It could have gone better. Lost a stag,” Ramsay glared at the second man. 

“I don’t suppose your offer is still open?” she asked. Ramsay tongue clicked aloud. Another horse walked over to him, already saddled. “Get on Jonas. I’ll take you around.”

Jonas wasn’t as intimidating as the large horse Ramsay rode. His eyes were kind and he waited patiently for Lyanna to hop onto him. He was calm and well-tempered than most of the northern horses. Lyanna guided him to follow Ramsay outside the gates.

Most snow around the gates had been dirtied and trampled on by many but the farther Lyanna got away from the castle, the more undisturbed and fresh the snow was.

“That there,” Ramsay pointed to the North. “That’s where the Wall is. Head this way in a straight line and you’ll get there faster than the kingsroad.”

“Have you been to the wall?” Lyanna responded. Jonas stepped in time with Ramsay’s horse. 

“No, and I don’t plan to. A place filled with nothing but the worst people? Doing what? Guarding us against Giants and the dead? Then again, wildings are a true threat. They think they can come here and rot our land with their ideas.”

“I’ve heard of them. I’ve never seen one.”

“They smell awful. Most of them can’t speak properly like you and I. I wouldn’t worry yourself with them. I’ll make sure you’ll never see one,” Ramsay continued into a nearby woods. The snow turned to a cold, hard ground where nothing could ever grow save for the dying trees and the beasts that roamed nearby.

“Hunting grounds?” Lyanna posed the question. Her eyes shifted back and forth, searching for signs of movement. Lyanna never had a pet or enjoyed animals. She would rather eat them roasted or baked than take care of one. She did enjoy horse rides from time to time, but the maintenance of beasts disgusted her. 

“In a way, yes,” Ramsay’s eyes kept forward. As they travelled deeper into the forest, Lyanna caught sight of other paths that deviated from the original path.

“These paths? Where do they lead?”

“The North is incredibly large, my lady,” Ramsay kept going. “Not all paths have a destination like they do in the South. Some lead to other castles like the Dreadfort. Others lead to witches. Most lead to nothing. Just abandoned homes where no one is around for miles.”

“Witches? Witches live here?”

Ramsay chuckled. “Have you not met a witch? There’s several in the North.”

“I’ve met a witch. Well, no. Not really, but technically I have.”

Ramsay cocked his eyebrow and stopped his horse. The exhale from their breaths colored the air as if smoke left their mouths. “What do you mean?”

“My mother trusted witches all her life. She was particular about them and extremely favored one. Her name was Gold Eyes.”

“Did she have gold eyes?”

“I don’t remember. She was my mother’s seer. She decorated her in all kinds of gold. My father banished her from King’s Landing with nothing but her own clothes. The stripped her of her title, her Lannister gold, and her home.”

“Why?”

“My father and mother never told me. All I know is that since my birth, they’ve never let another witch come in my presence.”

Ramsay made a grunting noise and continued to move forward. “I’ve met three witches. I’ve seen a seer. I killed a Red Witch because she annoyed me. And then there was my mother.”

“Your mother was a witch?” Lyanna asked. She kicked Jonas to trot her forward to be as close as possible to Ramsay.

“Yes, but not in the way most think. She didn’t trick my father into having me. My father raped my mother because it was justice. My mother dabbled and spoke to things. I never knew exactly what she was doing. I suppose I was too young. She handed me off to my father anyways. She never wanted me.”

“Do you hate her?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t you hate your mother if she never wanted you?”

Lyanna supposed he was right. She never experienced anything like that. Cersei loved all her children fiercely. For once, she considered herself lucky in some ways. Lyanna had the unconditional love of both of her parents where Ramsay seemed to have so little of it. She let her mind fog again until she remembered another thing he said.

“You said you killed a witch because she annoyed you?”

“I did.”

“What happened?”  
“She was weak. She put all her strength into this Lord of Light. She expected him to save her from me. She was wrong.”

“So you killed her?” Lyanna tried to understand.

“I’ll kill anyone who annoys me, my lady,” Ramsay told her. “Including you.” Those last two words made Lyanna shiver or perhaps it was the cold? Whatever it may be, a gear in her mind started to turn. Her mother’s gift didn’t seem so ridiculous now. The rumors her ladies heard had some truth to them, but pieces were still missing. Ramsay guided them out of the woods and towards South where Winter Town would be. “But I wouldn’t worry about that now. You don’t annoy me.”

“And what do I do exactly, my lord?” Lyanna said smoothly. She noted the color that rushed to Ramsay’s cheeks when she said ‘my lord’. 

“You make me curious,” Ramsay told her. “I assume you’ve never killed anyone.”

“You’re right, but I’m no stranger to death threats or assasinations.”

“Which is why you’re here now,” Ramsay finished the thought. “Our marriage is to protect you and your family. You need us.”

“We do,” Lyanna nodded. “Besides, it was time for me to marry anyways. I can’t stay with my mother and my brother in King’s Landing forever. I have to stand and act by my royal duty.”

“To marry and have children?”

“Heirs, yes,” she corrected Ramsay. “Our heirs to the land and castle you took from the Starks.” 

“Are you saying I stole Winterfell from its rightful owners?” Ramsay questioned, his tone changed. 

“No, I’m saying you took it away from people who didn’t deserve it. The Starks came to King’s Landing to ruin my family and bury them into the ground. Then the Fish whore stole my uncle away calling for his death and arrest without as much as a shred of evidence. Ned Stark’s Wolf son betrayed his promise, laid his angry waste onto my grandfather’s and uncle’s armies. They are traitors to the King. In a way, your family are the real heroes.”

Ramsay smiled and continued forth. “You and I are going to be very good friends, my lady.”

Winter Town was filled with common folk. Children ran through the snow, and older children ran errands for their parents or themselves. Lyanna looked down on them all, taking in the sight of her new people. She watched a mother usher her children inside at the sight of Ramsay, and secretly thanked the gods for arranging a marriage such as this. Then she watched young men not far off from their age slink away when Ramsay looked to them. One of them had the decency to bow and mumble ‘my lord’ before he hid inside. 

Their homes were made of stronger material than she assumed. Metal and strong wood kept the people safe and warm from the harsh weather. Jonas’ hooves sunk into the mud streets that lined the way back to Winterfell. As they reached the middle square of the bustling town, Lyanna saw the merchants. Where she was used to seeing decorated stalls with different colors of fruit and vegetables, it paled in comparison to the wooden stalls with produce that wasn’t as brightly colored. 

“You had a meeting with my father this morning,” Ramsay mentioned as they rode side by side.

“It was with the maester. He insisted on having a proper bedding ceremony with as many witnesses possible to attest that I am a virgin and you are deflowering me,” Lyanna said bitterly. 

“Well, are you?”

“Am I what?” Lyanna snapped back.

“Are you a virgin?” Ramsay asked much more calmly than Lyanna realized.

“Do you assume that I am not?”

“I barely know you, my lady. I do hear that the South encourages more risky behavior. Many whores up here go move down there because men in the South are unfaithful and the money is good.”

“Are you implying—

“I’m not. You’re the Princess. You seem dutiful and responsible to me, but I could be wrong.” Lyanna released the tension in her shoulders and relaxed.

“If you must know, I am. I’ve never touched or been with anyone.”

“With anyone? At all?”

“I had crushes here and there, but no. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve never been kissed either. It used to bother me until I realized how protected and sheltered I’ve been.” Ramsay snorted which hurt Lyanna more than she would like to admit.

“Girls. Usually the noblest ones are so pure. Such a shame. You’ve been missing out.” 

“Missing out?”

“You seriously didn’t think I was pure too, did you?” Ramsay laughed. Lyanna felt the same thing she felt when she caught her father messing around with another woman at a feast for the first time. A realization that men were raised and lived very different lives from their female counterparts. Dread seeped into her skin. She should have known. Roose’s disgusting comment played through her head.

“Oh, it will be done witness or no witness.”

“Do you always do that?” Ramsay snapped his fingers in front of her. 

“Do what?”

“Your mind. It goes places even when I’m still talking to you. You’re not there.”

Lyanna narrowed her eyes at him. “I was only thinking. Besides, it seems your whorish reputation is very well known in Winterfell.” Lyanna kicked Jonas into gear as they raced off towards the gates. They open for Lyanna while she was still racing, the guards noted her signature red cloak that flowed behind her. They could hear Ramsay’s horse catching up to her and didn’t dare ask what happened.

Lyanna jumped off of Jonas, but before she could storm off Ramsay caught a hold of her wrist. His gloved hand keeping a firm hold of her.

“I’m no whore,” he spat in her face. “I am heir to Winterfell. You may be the High Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, but that is the last time you’ll insult me. Do you understand?”

“I can have you dead right here, right now,” Lyanna threatened back. “Don’t you dare think you have more power than me. You never will. The next time you want to hold me against my will will be the last time you have hands.”

Ramsay promptly let her go. Both of them glared at each other until Ramsay huffed and left Lyanna in the courtyard alone. She spied the kennelmaster’s daughter chasing after him. She had skipped dinner that night to avoid seeing the bastard. Another gear started to move its cogs in her head. 

The way he grabbed her. The way he held her. The jeweled dagger lay on her bed. The metal was polished, but she knew it was sharp. Either Cersei knew exactly who Ramsay Bolton was or her father had attacked her mother before and this was a lesson. She wondered if Cersei gifted her sister, Myrcella, with the same thing. Surely, she must have. Myrcella was taken from King’s Landing and straight to the family that hated them the most.

Lyanna grabbed another parchment of paper and started to write a letter to Myrcella. The ink flowed with questions about arranged marriage while she heard the northern winds dance outside. The branches scratched against each other and the castle. Like nails dragging down the sides as if spirits wanted attention. 

Lyanna shook it off. Ghosts did not exist. When you were dead, you were dead. Nothing of you remained in this world. If spirits did roam, then her brother would have unfinished business here. Her father would still drink. The dead Starks would still have their vengeance.  
The winds blew around again. And again, Lyanna heard the voices from outside.

“Lyanna, we see you…you’re home.”

Lyanna went to the window again. She saw nothing. Only the same godswood tree with a face and tears streaming down. The same red, thick sap dripped down slow in the cold night. 

“Lyanna, we see you…welcome home.” 

The creaky voice sounded older than most of the maesters she spoken to. It was breathy and long. Yet, no one claimed the voice. Lyanna only saw the godswood tree, looking up to her.


	7. The Deal

Myrcella’s letter felt different in Lyanna’s hands. It smelled of the sea, salt and something wet. It felt almost exotic. Winterfell was still foreign to her. She had described the awe of fresh snow to Myrcella. How cold it was. How it would melt in her hand in seconds and sometimes it hardened enough to make something of it. Her letter felt thick. She must have a lot to say. When Lyanna opened the envelope, she noticed her sister’s first line.

‘Yes. Mama gave me one too.’

Myrcella had a dagger for her husband just as Lyanna had one for hers. Lyanna sensed that her sister never had to use hers against Trystane. Lyanna fondly remembered when Myrcella confessed she had stolen her first few kisses with him before they were married. The jealousy stung, but now it was only a memory. Still, the jealousy stung now.

Lyanna remembered Ramsay’s cruel laugh at her for when she confessed her lack of sexual activity. She stroked her long dark hair. Growing up as the Princess of King’s Landing meant she couldn’t do as she pleased. Even Markus, her own cousin, placed his limitations on her.

Lyanna always loved her cousin, but there was once a time where she idolized him in everything he did. The phrase rang true. Wherever the does goes, the lion follows. Markus did follow her everywhere she went. Markus was her first friend, and her first crush. Some days she found herself looking at her cousin too long or admiring the way he danced with his sword.

Once, Lyanna ran from a feast. Her eyes held tears and her fists held her rage. Again, she found her father with another woman. A commoner. The way he spoke to her was disgusting. The way he touched her was disgusting. Yet, her mother did nothing. No one did anything. Lyanna knew it was wrong to covet and have another man’s wife. 

Robert Baratheon was King of the Seven Kingdoms. He could do as he pleased. 

She covered herself and hid away in a corner. Her rage was meaningless. Her father would continue his gluttonous and sinful behavior regardless what she did. Lyanna felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the kind eyes of her cousin.

“Lyanna? I saw you run. What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t see him?! How he grabbed her. What he said.”

“I did. I did. I saw.”

“And?”

“I know,” Markus said, defeated. 

“I hate this place,” Lyanna seethed. “This place is damned. It’s like the gods mock all of us. Nothing will ever change. When my father dies, Joffery will take the throne and continue on. This cesspool of sin will only spread even more. No one even cares.”

“What if I could take you away from this place?” Markus posed the question. His green eyes reflected differently in the candlelight in the hallway. Lyanna stared into them, hoping for a good answer.

“How do you mean?”

“You and I. We get disguises. Food. A horse or two, and we just run away from here. Far away. Where no one can find us.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lyanna shook her head. “I’m the Princess. I can’t leave.”

“You can,” Markus smiled. His hand stroked her hair. “We could even sail to Essos. Just you and me.”

“And we can see Lysa!” Lyanna bounced up and down, warming up to the idea more. “I could see the world.”

“We could,” Markus smiled down at her. “What do you think? Would you want to?” Anxiety settled into Lyanna’s stomach like butterflies in a net. Fluttering and moving constantly. She bit at her nails. 

“Not now,” Lyanna finally said. “I don’t want to now.”

“Is it because you’re scared?” Markus said. “I’ll make sure no one follows us. We could change our names. And once we’re in Essos, there’s a place where you can change your face.”

“Markus, I don’t want to leave my family.” Lyanna confessed. The idea started to brew in her mind. Every time she caught her father slapping her mother. Every time the common folk threw shit at her or started a riot. Running away became more attractive to her. Markus would always ask from time to time. Lyanna always had the same answer.

“Do you want to run away? Get away from this hell?” Markus would ask.

“I can’t leave my family.” Lyanna would say.

Ned Stark and his girls settled here. Lyanna and Sansa were quick friends. Each shared stories and ideas about their worlds. Still, the idea brewed. Lyanna had considered taking Sansa along with her for some time. Her crush on her cousin faded away when Lyanna aged more. Lots of things changed when Lyanna aged.

Her trust of people quickly dissipated when Ned Stark was put to death. Even more so when Myrcella was sent away. Still, the idea sounded attractive to her. There were days where she felt angered and powerless with the politics at court, with her brother’s antics, or where she tired of it all. 

“Come away with me,” Markus told her. “We could marry. Find some land in the riverlands. We could live a quiet life there.”

Lyanna shook her head. “I can’t leave my family.”

Now she was here in the North. Where her husband and the people were cold. Where death was seen as common as the flowers she sang to in King’s Landing. The weight of Myrcella’s letter became heavier and heavier every time she thought about it. Her excuse was no good here. Lyanna had left her family. Everything she had known was behind her. 

The idea still sounded too good to be true.

Lyanna had stayed in Winterfell for a total of one month now. Her familiarity with Winterfell only extended to the castle itself. Though, she did stay away from parts she knew her presence would not be welcomed. The kennels, for example. 

Lyanna didn’t hate animals, and she enjoyed a horse ride from time to time. The Boltons’ dogs intimidated her greatly. Their loud barks, their sharp teeth, and their eyes. She swore they stared at her any time she happened to walk by. Today, she felt particularly brave. Lyanna walked by the kennels only to flinch when they all started to bark at her.

“My lady,” a soft voice called out. Lyanna turned to see the kennelmaster’s daughter behind her. She held food for the dogs inside. “Are you alright?”

There was many things that Cersei passed down to Lyanna. Her green eyes. Her dislike for common people. Worst of all, Lyanna had Cersei’s distrust. Although, Lyanna preffered to blame her father for making her this way. She narrowed her eyes on the girl. She may have been around the same ae as her. One thing was for sure, she was small. What threat could she pose?

“I am fine,” Lyanna said. “Are you feeding those beasts?” The kennelmaster’s daughter laughed.

“No, no. They’re not beasts, my lady.”

“They have teeth that could kill you.”

“They’re nothing but obedient dogs, my lady,” she smiled. Lyanna had a feeling that smile was as fake as her thoughts. She walked right up to the girl. She smelled of the earth and wet dog.

“What’s your name?” Lyanna asked.

“Myranda, my lady,” she bowed. Another thought clicked in her mind. 

“You’re the one who keeps Ramsay’s bed warm, aren’t you?” Lyanna smirked. Myranda looked around her quickly. Her cheeks gained color.

“My lady, I—

“Don’t lie to me,” she threatened. “Remember who you’re talking to.” Myranda gained a smirk herself.

“And if I do keep his bed warm, would that make you jealous? That Ramsay doesn’t want you?”

Lyanna put her finger under Myranda’s chin. “Sweet girl, I’ve watched my father, the King, fuck many pretty girls. Sometimes as many as four. Yet, my mother was still queen. You can fuck Ramsay every single night until you’re old if you’d like. I don’t care because the truth is I will still rule by Ramsay’s side, and you will only warm his bed until he’s done with you.”

“He’ll never be done with me.”

Lyanna laughed. “That’s funny. That’s the same thing I heard a northern girl say. Ros? Was it? One of Littlefinger’s girls. Do you know what happened to her? My brother killed her with a crossbow. All of you are pretty and good at what you do until the day comes where he’ll tire of you too. Then he’ll rid of you. And I will still be here at his side. Always.”

Myranda dropped her food and ran off in the opposite direction. Lyanna wasn’t scared of competition. She wasn’t scared of anyone. Satisfied with herself, Lyanna spent the afternoon writing back to her sister and another letter to her mother. She suspect that her mother needed some kind of distraction, and Lyanna was eager to know more about her uncle’s trial and Sansa’s whereabouts.

Allyis rushed in looking panicked. “My lady! It’s Theodosia! She’s been attacked!” Lyanna thre aside any parchment paper and burned it in the fire. No one would read her letters when she was this far from home. Not without her permission.

She rushed to the infirmary where Theodosia had her wound treated. Her side hurt her immensely. She moaned and tried to hold in the pain she felt when the maester treated her wound.

“What happened?” Lyanna asked.

“I don’t know. It was all so fast,” Theodosia explained. They both looked to Allyis. With rapid fire, she recounted the events.

“We were walking, my lady. Just outside the castle gates. Theodosia wanted to see more of the snow and I went with her. We played in it until I spied a girl come behind Theodosia and stab her side. She ran off before I could get her name.”

“What did she look like?”  
“She had long brown hair. Small as me,” Allyis said. A name flashed across her mind and it angered her. Lyanna turned on her heel and marched up to one of the guards. He did a double take before addressing her.

“My lady?”

“Where is Ramsay Bolton?” Lyanna’s fists held her anger. 

“The main hall, my lady. I believe he’s with his—

The details didn’t matter. Lyanna rushed off to find him. Her rage did not settle by the time she made her way into the main hall where she saw Ramsay. Her hands grabbed him by his chest and pulled him away from his father mid-conversation. Annoyed, Ramsay pushed her back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ramsay spat at her.

“Why is your bedwarmer attacking my girls?”

Ramsay cracked a smile. “Is that what this is about?” Lyanna hit Ramsay in the chest.

“Why is Myranda stabbing my ladies? I want an answer now.”

“Are you jealous?” Ramsay laughed. Lyanna slapped Ramsay across the face and then brought herself up to his level, only inches away from each other.

“I don’t care who you deem worthy to put you’re your little worm into. I want to know why my lady, Theodosia, was attacked. If you don’t give me a satisfactory answer, I’ll rip your men to shreds until we’re even.” Lyanna threated him. Ramsay narrowed his eyes on her. Before Ramsay pulled a knife on her, Markus stood in between the pair. His sword was out and pointed at Ramsay.

“You don’t touch or harm, my lady,” Markus said, keeping Lyanna behind him.

“Move.” Ramsay commanded.

“I believe my lady, the Princess of Westeros and the king’s sister had asked you a question.”

Ramsay stood in place for a moment before he shifted his weight. His eyes landed on Lyanna. “Myranda told me what you said to her. I told her she could take her anger out on anything that wasn’t you.”

“So you told her it was okay to attack my lady?” Lyanna barked back. 

“I didn’t tell her to attack your ladies. I told her to get rid of her anger. Angry girls bore me. I don’t like being bored.”

“That’s too bad,” Lyanna pouted. “Because I am a furious woman and I’m going to be your wife.”

Ramsay took one last look at Markus before he left both of you in the hallway. Markus turned to Lyanna looking her over carefully.

“Did he hurt you, my lady?” Markus asked, brushing a hair away from her face.

“No,” Lyanna pointed he eyes back into the main hall where Ramsay continued his conversation with his father as if nothing happened. “I’m beginning to see why none of you told me about him.”

“You’re only scraping the surface, my lady,” Markus glared at Ramsay. “I told you he’s awful.”

“He’s going to be my husband.”

“I could be your husband,” Markus said into her ear. Lyanna closed her eyes. Before she could say her excuse, she remembered. She had no family here save for Uncle Kevan who wanted to attend the wedding himself and give her away. Markus pulled his cousin out of sight from everyone else.

“I told you. We could ran away from here. We have a better chance now than we did in King’s Landing.”

“Markus, we were children—

“You bled when I came to you with the idea. You were not a child.”

“Do you think every girl who bleeds is an adult?” Lyanna shot back. She sighed deeply and held the bridge of her nose. “I’m turning for the night.”

“Lyanna—

“No,” Lyanna pushed her blonde-curled cousin away from her and moved forward to her bedchambers. Ramsay or Myranda or Markus couldn’t bother her from there. 

As she walked along the outside corridor, Lyanna noted a large black crow. Its eyes followed her as she turned back inside the castle. A shiver went down her back. It was only a crow. Why was she so scared?


	8. Old Gods

Lyanna’s white dress flowed behind her as she made her way to a quiet part of the castle. Most of Winterfell, including its lords, worshipped the old gods. Lyanna knew she would have to forsake her faith for Ramsay, but she wasn’t married to him yet. Cersei didn’t share the same faith as her daughters did. Lyanna worshipped her gods strictly, and Myrcella had done the same but with more freedom.

Lyanna assumed that Myrcella’s faith has flourished in Dorne. Her own faith had only deepened when Joffery passed away. She lit a few candles around her and let the silence take over.

Sounds of the castle entered her ears like ghosts whispering their secrets. Lyanna heard footsteps that walked in the corridor. Hushed conversations about Ramsay’s temper. Birds’ songs that echoed in the room. All of it only calmed Lyanna as she started to speak.

“There must be a purpose. My grandfather would not have sent me here without one. I come to all of you in needing of your guidance. People have lied to me about him. About who these people were, but still there is so much confusion. I wonder if I’m being used as a pawn in some way. Tywin would never want me to be harmed, yet he arranged this marriage. 

“I have conflicting feelings about Ramsay. Is he a child of your wrath, Father? Does he possess any redeeming qualities of the Mother in him? Or does he belong to the Stranger? I fear the worst, but I pay attention. He does not seem like he hates me, but I have annoyed him. Does that matter? Am I doomed to have a marriage like my mother and my father? Is love important?

“Markus has not forgotten about our deal. The one we made when we were children. At first, it felt comforting. To have an option to run. Then, it became annoying over time, but now I can’t help but to think of the possibility of leaving this altogether. I have no one to protect me but Uncle Kevan and Markus. Then again, Ramsay has not shown me he is the danger people claim him to be.”

“People claim that I am a danger to you?” Ramsay interrupted Lyanna’s conversation with the gods. She turned to see Ramsay slowly eating away at an apple, using his knife to cut chunk after chunk.

“Ramsay—

“No need, my lady. I won’t punish you for worshipping your gods,” he smirked, entering the sacred space that Lyanna made for herself. 

“How much did you hear?” Lyanna felt a chill run down her spine. 

“Your cousin has made you a deal or sorts?” he questioned, chewing on another piece. Lyanna stood up, facing him.

“It wasn’t a serious one,” she shook her head. “A child’s wish.”  
“You wish to run away from here? The only safe place for you left?” Ramsay was filled with more questions today than before. 

“What do you mean by that?” Lyanna had her own questions. Her eyes didn’t leave Ramsay’s.

“Do you think your grandfather sent you here because he thought it would be fun? You can’t be that much of an idiot?”

“I’m not. You’re claiming this is the last safe place for me left. What do you mean? Is there nowhere else?”

“If you left with your cousin right now, you wouldn’t survive to see winter,” Ramsay pointed out. He started to pace the room. “Your family has enemies everywhere. That’s what this marriage for to protect you. And you wish to run from me?”

“You threatened me. Multiple times now,” Lyanna said, following him with her eyes.

“And yet, I have not hurt you,” Ramsay said. He was right. His words carried an aggressive weight, but he took no action against her.

“And I’m supposed to believe you won’t hurt me?”

Ramsay chuckled. “My lady, if I haven’t hurt you by now, I don’t think I will.”

Annoyed that her sacred time was interrupted, Lyanna crossed her arms on her chest. “What do you want, Ramsay?”

“I came to explain something to you,” Ramsay started. “It seems Myranda has taken out her jealous rage on your ladies. I’ve grounded her, so you won’t need to fret any longer. She won’t be stabbing any of your ladies anymore.”

“You grounded her?”

“Does that not please you? Or would you rather I take a more Baratheon approach? I heard your brother enjoyed his crossbow.”

Lyanna narrowed her eyes and started to close the space between them. “I do not wish for Myranda to die because of her rash decision. Do you treat your bedwarmers as if they are disposable soldiers?”

“Myranda and I had a similar plan like your cousin,” Ramsay explained flatly. “I was only a bastard then. Things have changed now. Your brother has honored me with legitimacy and your grandfather has given me you. I can no longer run away with her. I have a legacy to protect.”

Lyanna’s eyes casted downward. Perhaps Ramsay and she had more things in common than she liked to admit.   
“I guess this is how the gods answer me then,” Lyanna sighed. “The Maiden reminds me to stay faithful to my family and my husband.”

“You and I are not married yet,” Ramsay cocked his head. 

“While that might be true, I’m still faithful to you.”

“Why?” Ramsay’s cold eyes almost turned to ice. Lyanna’s eyes softened.

“If you’re right, My family and I have the entire world to fear. Who do I trust? Strangers in the North who want my head? Or the future lord of Winterfell who give all of their heads to me?” 

Ramsay smiled and chuckled at Lyanna’s words. Taking another bite of the apple, he seemed the happiest he’s been in a while.

“You mock me again?” Lyanna asked.

“No, my lady, the opposite,” Ramsay continued. “I’ve been unfair to you while you promise me loyalty. Threaten you while you have been patient. You possess a faith in me that I have not returned. Perhaps, it’s time I do the same for you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Lyanna said in relief. Ramsay looked around at the empty space, chewing on another chuck of the apple.

“What do you see in the seven? Why do you pray to them when you know you’ll forsake your faith to me?”

“It brings me comfort. I suppose,” Lyanna looked around at the candles. “My mind is heavy. I need time to reflect.”

“Is your cousin bothering you?” Ramsay asked. “Does he want you to run away with him?” Lyanna stood silent for a moment. Ramsay had promised to be more patient with her, but her gut told her to lie. 

“He fears for my safety here as does my Uncle Kevan,” Lyanna told a half-truth. 

“You southern lot believe that northerners are wild and our loyalty is weak,” Ramsay said. “I told you and I’ll tell you again. This is the last safe place for you. The Boltons have been loyal to the crown and the Lannisters since the Red Wedding. We have been holding the North for you all this time.”

“Your father has been holding the North. Your father orchestrated the Red Wedding. What of your loyalty, my lord?”

Ramsay threw down the apple and closed the space between them. His hand ghosted over Lyanna’s side.   
“Have faith in me, my lady,” Ramsay told her in hushed tones. “I will prove my loyalty to you over time.” Lyanna nodded and left Ramsay’s company. The seven had punished her before and they rewarded her before. This felt more like her questions were answered. 

She would not run away with Markus. Ramsay promised her patience and loyalty over time. What had Markus promised? A life on the run. Nowhere safe to even go. Ramsay had Winterfell. The choice was obvious. 

She passed by the kennels and stopped. A peculiar sight had caught her by surprise. She backed up and looked into the kennels to confirm what she saw. When she took a closer look, her fears were confirmed. Myranda sat there chained to the front of the kennels, coughing.

“Did he put you here? For hurting my ladies?” Lyanna asked. Myranda looked away from her. Her lips were cracked. Her nose was red. She was catching a cold. Lyanna became persistent. “How long have you been out here?”

Myranda’s silence was even more persistent. Lyanna looked to her right, seeing the keys to the kennel just out of Myranda’s reach. It had been cruel to place her freedom so close to her. Lyanna grabbed them and opened the kennel, grabbing Myranda’s chains.

“What are you doing?” Myranda said in anger.

“You’re coming with me,” Lyanna said.

“What?”

“I’m taking you to my room to warm you up. You’re getting sick,” Lyanna explained, unlocking the first cuff on Myranda. She gripped Lyanna’s wrist tight.

“I hurt your girls. How do you know I won’t hurt you?”

“I don’t,” Lyanna honestly answered. “I don’t know what you heard of my brother, but I am not him. I don’t hurt people. You may hurt me, but I can’t let you be out here and suffer like this.”

“He’ll be furious, you know? Ramsay will be angry with you.”

“I can handle Ramsay’s wrath,” Lyanna unlocked the second cuff. She lifted Myranda off the ground. She coughed and gagged. Saliva left Myranda’s mouth slowly dripping onto the dirt.

“Why are you helping me?” Myranda’s anger rose. Lyanna started to drag her to her bedchambers.

“Because you are more use to me alive then dead.” Lyanna put Myranda into her bed ordering soup and a hot bath for her. Myranda looked around and saw Lyanna’s nice things and clothes. 

“My lady, what use am I to you? You have your ladies in waiting already. Why help me when—  
“Myranda, you possess a knowledge of the North than none of my ladies have. You have been in Ramsay’s bed and you have his ear. You are more dangerous than two of my guards together. And again, I tell you. I am not cruel like you think I am. I am not my brother.” Lyanna explained herself.

“So what are you then?” Myranda asked. Lyanna handed over the bowl of hot soup to her. 

“I am a friend. All of my ladies are my friends. I do things for them as they do things for me. Not out of servitude, but out of friendship.”

“You want to be my friend?” Myranda asked. Lyanna smoothed out Myranda’s hair, taking the straw out of it.

“I do. You and I started off on the wrong foot. As much as I hate to admit it, I need allies here. Allies who are loyal to me.”

“Are you asking for me to betray Ramsay’s loyalty?”

“No,” Lyanna said. “I am asking for your friendship and loyalty to me at no cost to your relationship with Ramsay. Both of us will hold Winterfell. A friendship with both of us is better than one.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Myranda said, sipping at her soup. “Your ladies in waiting will not be happy with your friendship with me.”

“They will be. I am second in line to the Throne,” Lyanna stated. “My word is law.” Myranda smiled to herself as she ate her soup.

“Thank you, my lady, for your kindness.”

“Don’t make me regret this, Myranda. After you’re done here, go warm up in the bath. After that, you may have any of my gowns.”

“I do not mean to oppose, my lay, but I wouldn’t be comfortable in any of your fancy silks,” Myranda said. “If you had more practical clothing, then I would accept.” Lyanna nodded. Her new friendship with Myranda would prove to be fruitful, if Myranda didn’t betray her.

Night came over Winterfell again like a blanket. The sky was clear of any clouds, and the woods had been quiet. Lyanna spent her evening away from the bickering men in the dining room. Myranda’s company was much more interesting to her.

“Does it ever snow in the south, my lady?” Myranda asked.

“I have never seen snow until I saw Winterfell for the first time.”

“And when was that?”  
“When my father came here to ask Lord Eddard Stark to be his Hand,” Lyanna remembered. “Things were so different then.”

“If you ask me, the world is better off without the Starks,” Myranda said.

“Were they unkind to you?” Lyanna asked. “I can’t imagine Ned Stark locking you in the kennels like that.”

“No, he did not,” Myranda said. “But the Starks are stupid. Rather than listen to their people, they make their own decisions and believe it’s for the greater good.”

“How so?”

“Deserters from the Night’s Watch, my lady. They’ve been running all over the place, telling their stories, but they die anyways. The Starks pretend that the Wall will protect us when it’s the Wall that needs us the most.”

“You believe in the ghosts beyond the Wall?” Lyanna laughed, but Myranda did not.

“Ghosts are real, my lady.”

Those words continued to haunt Lyanna when black colored the night sky, and she heard those voices again. They called out to her.

“Lyanna.”

That’s all they said. Her name over and over again. Lyanna covered her ears, but she still heard them. She went over to the window to see who it could be. She was greeted with emptiness and the same weirwood tree staring back at her. She had enough. Someone was tormenting Lyanna at night.

Lyanna wrapped herself in fur cloak and headed outdoors to the weirwood tree. She only saw a handful of night guards but none had any evidence to anyone saying her name at night. She walked towards the weirwood tree. The scene had been still as ever, not even a mouse crawled around the tree.

Lyanna stared the tree in the face and saw no movement. She only heard her name again.

“Lyanna.”

She looked around behind the tree and the area. No one was there. The guards were right. 

“Lyanna.”

She heard it again, and it set her off.

“Where are you? Show yourself! I am heir to the Seven Kingdoms!” Lyanna shouted at the wind. “What do you want? Where are you?”

“Lyanna.”

“Show yourself, you coward! I could kill you! What do you want with me?” Lyanna had enough of the games. She wanted to sleep at night. Ghosts didn’t exist. Someone was tormenting her. She would have it no more.

“What do you want?” Lyanna screamed.

“Lyanna?” 

Lyanna heard the voice behind her and felt a chill go down her spine. Ramsay stood before her, out of breath and his eyes red as if he hadn’t slept in a while.

“You hear them too, don’t you?”


	9. Lyanna Stark

The cold weather blew between both of them. The ghosts that stayed in Winterfell’s trees whispered in their ears and blew on the snow. The darkness in the sky loomed over them both in silence as if it waited for Lyanna to speak.

“What?” She reacted.

“You hear them. The voices in the trees. They’re calling to you,” Ramsay said. “You heard them, right?”

“I don’t-I don’t understand,” Lyanna started to shiver. Her arms closed in on her while she looked behind her to see if anyone was there. No one matched her stare back. When she looked in front of her again, she was met with Ramsay’s hand.

“You’re cold. Come on,” Ramsay took Lyanna’s hand and helped her inside. Snow had soaked through her cloak. Mud dripped off the hem. “How long have you heard them?”

“The voices?” 

“No, the nargles. Of course the voices!”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

Ramsay took a long look at Lyanna and sighed. He started laughing. “I am not mean. I’m realistic. How long has it been?”

“Since I got here. I thought it was someone outside my window.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Ramsay continued. “I heard them when I was young and with my mother. I passed it off as her and her friends casting magic on me. But then it followed me to the Dreadfort and now here. I thought I was going mad. I mean, why else would everyone call me a mad dog?” Ramsay looked down in disgust, but then quickly cleared his throat and faced Lyanna. He watched a snowflake melt in her hair and shook his head.

“A witch here told me that it meant something. I didn’t believe her until now.”

“What makes me different? Couldn’t I just be going mad? Have you heard of my brother?” Lyanna said.

“I have,” Ramsay added. “He was a joke.”

“A joke?”

“Not to offend you, my lady. Your brother was spoiled king. As was your father.”

Lyanna looked down and away from him. She tried breathing out all of the anxiety she felt, but her chest still weighed the same. She swallowed Ramsay’s words, but continued the conversation.

“You said there was a witch here.”

“She is my father’s witch. He brought her here to Winterfell. I didn’t necessarily agree with him, but I am not a lord.” Ramsay clicked his tongue. He led them both inside and closer to warmth. A small fire was the only light in the main hall. Lyanna stood closer to it, hoping to warm up from the heat.

“Your father, does he believe in witches?”

“He does. My mother is a witch,” Ramsay sighed. “They all believe in the Old Gods and The Children and such.”

“What about you? What do you believe? Do you think the gods exist?”

“The Old Gods do. I’ve seen things. I’ve done things. The Old Gods exist, and they can be vengeful.”

“How do you know that?”

“I told you. I have seen things. I’ve heard those voices too, do you think I’m lying?”

“No. I only—

“What have the Seven given you? A dead father? A dead brother?”

“You’re being mean again.”

“I’m being realistic, Lyanna.” Ramsay spat. “Don’t call me mean again.”

“What do you suppose we do then? Go to the witch? Tell her I heard the same voices you did.”

“Do you think this is all some joke?” Ramsay moved himself closer to her. Being inches from her face, he stared her down. Lyanna matched his rising anger with her own. She cleared her throat and put her foot down.

“This must be difficult for you. Having someone talk sense to you. Hearing voices from the Old Gods? Is that what you believe in the North? Is it so cold that the sight of snow drives you mad?”

“And again I ask you what have the Seven done for you? You believe in gods who reward you with nothing but the dead. You and I will go to my father’s witch tomorrow and you’ll see. Get to bed.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I can. I am your betrothed.”

Lyanna scoffed and moved past him. This was all ridiculous. The Old Gods of the North were not calling her name in the middle of the night. They were not present. Gods did not talk. One prayed to the gods and hoped for the best. Her mother also had a witch, but she was banished from King’s Landing before she could even walk.

It bothered her. She prayed to the seven religiously as she was taught. Yet, Ramsay’s words rang true. Her father’s life was taken by a boar. Her brother’s life was taken by the Stark girl and her uncle. What good have the Seven given her? Her family sent her away to live here for her safety. 

Her hand smoothed out the parchment as her words flowed across the page.

Mother,

The more time I spend in the North, the more I ask myself if the Seven truly care for our family. Are we cursed? Have they decided our fates to be so terrible? I don’t understand any of it. I miss you. I miss Tommen. I miss Uncle Jaime and everyone. I’m not sure if I like it here, but liking it is not a priority I realize.

The Boltons, the Maester, and Uncle Kevan have all had a say in my wedding. Except for me. I wonder if you had to deal with the same things. At least I will be fitted for a lovely gown tomorrow, no man can judge what I will wear. Tell me how Uncle Tyrion’s trial is going. I hope he’s rotting in those dungeons.

Lyanna stood in a stark white gown made by a northern seamstress. The sleeves were long. The dress was thick. Best suited for a northern bride. However, Lyanna noticed the smaller details. The little stags embroidered on her wrists. The albino lion’s mane shawl that covered her. This dress was made for her. She loved it.

“It looks beautiful, my lady,” Theodosia smiled. She was still healing from the wound that Myranda gave her. Lysa straightened out the dress in all corners, taking the time to look at the back.

“It could use some altercations in places, but it suits you,” Lysa added. Another girl walked into the room. Allyis quickly went to defend Theodosia. Lysa stiffened. Myranda smirked, holding her ground.

“Ah! Good morning, Myranda!” Lyanna turned. “Myranda will be joining us. She has promised to be nice. I expect you do the same.”

“Joining us?” Theodosia said. “But she—

“I am aware of what she has done.” Lyanna held up her hand. “Myranda?”  
Myranda stepped forward more into the room. Lyanna’s ladies stepped back. They stared at her as if she were a lion herself. Myranda purred at the thought she had scared them so deeply.

“Theodosia, I hope you can forgive me. My actions were rash and filled with awful intent,” Myranda said. “My only wish is to protect our lady and you from now on.”

“Why do I feel like that’s a lie?” Lysa said. Her eyes narrowed on the younger girl ahead of her. “What family are you from? What do you want?”

“Myranda’s family trains the dogs. Myranda herself knows everything in the North. She is valuable and she’s my lady now,” Lyanna stood her ground. “You will show her respect.”

“She stabbed Theo, my lady. And now you want me to respect her?” Lysa said.

“She stabbed Theo because she couldn’t stab me. Is that the answer you want? Would you rather I have her dragged by a horse until her face bleeds? No. I am not my brother. We forgive people in unforgiving places. I expect you to be your best. You’re the oldest Lysa, be an example. Now. Myranda, what do you think?” Lyanna turned slowly in her wedding dress in front of her.

Myranda’s face went from serious to a forced smile. She nodded, but Lyanna knew she was unhappy. A future wife shows a lover her wedding dress and expects an opinion. The jealousy from Myranda’s eyes burned her dress and set her skin on fire.

“It’s lovely, my lady,” she nodded. Another knock disturbed the girls in the room. A tall guard came in and faced Lyanna.

“I’m sorry, my lady. Ramsay requested you. He said it was urgent,” the tall guard looked over to Theodosia and smiled. She smiled back and nodded. Lyanna noticed right away as she felt relief wash over her. Finally, an excuse to get away from the tension.

“No need for an apology. Ramsay and I discussed this meeting last night.”

“Last night?” Myranda choked. “When?”

“I’m not sure when,” Lyanna answered honestly. She saw a struggle behind Myranda’s eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Would you escort me to him? You know this castle better than I do.”

“My lady, you don’t need her,” Lysa said. “You know where he is.” Lyanna rolled her eyes and left her ladies in the chamber. She had enough of them for today.

“I apologized as you said—

“And it was fine. I apologize for them. Sometimes I tire of female company. I’m like my mother in that way. Who is your mother? Is she here?”

“No,” Myranda shook her head. “She died. Thieves murdered her for food for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyanna said, knowing she never had to go without. “Is that why you love hounds? They protect people?”

“In a way, yes. The hounds here are trained for only three people to command them. My father, the kennelmaster, myself, and Ramsay. I feel safe with them. You seem scared of them.”

“I have guards. They make me feel safe.”

“I understand, but I was asking if you’re scared of dogs, my lady?” Lyanna thought of their mouths drooling with thick saliva. How big their paws and teeth were and all she could do was cringe.

“I have you to protect me here, why would I need a hound?” 

Lyanna and Myranda found Ramsay in the courtyard seeming all too pleased with himself. While everyone around him did their daily duties, Ramsay stood in the middle contributing nothing to world around him. He smiled at Lyanna, but frowned when he saw Myranda.

“Why is she here?” he asked Lyanna.

“What do you mean why is she here? She’s my lady now. She goes where I go.” Lyanna told him.

“She’s your lady now?” Ramsay turned to Myranda. “Must you warm my wife’s bed as well?”

“Are you pleased with yourself yet?” Lyanna spat. “Myranda and I have come to an understanding. She is my lady. She protects me where I go.” Ramsay laughed and spoke in his betrothed’s ear.

“Trusting her is the worst thing that you have done. She would kill you if she had the chance.”

Lyanna glanced at Myranda and then back to Ramsay. “If you can’t trust your own bedwarmer then who do you trust?”

“You don’t trust me?” Myranda’s voice broke a little. Ramsay rolled his eyes.

“We were supposed to do this alone. You and I. She’s not a part of it.”

“My lord—

“Go away, Myranda,” Ramsay ordered her. Lyanna reached for Myranda, but she had already walked away. Lyanna thought she saw tears coming down Myranda’s face. Ramsay had grabbed her and taken her away from the castle and into Winter Town again. Locals reacted in the same way she saw the first time. They retracted and cowered from Ramsay. Lyanna understood why. He was terrible to his own people. He was terrible to his own lover. 

They came upon a small house with smoke going through the roof. Someone was home, but the exterior looked so cold. As if snow and moss was frozen to the sides of it. More smoke came from the open front door. Lyanna inhaled the sage burning while Ramsay took her inside. None of them knocked.

“Ah,” she said. She was small woman. Her gray hair had been braided over and over, leaving no room for any stray hairs. Her yellow teeth matched her eyes. Her feet were bare, but no frostbite had touched them. Her hands had inked runes on them.

“Freda,” Ramsay said. “This is—

“Lyanna Baratheon. Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Your betrothed.” Freda smiled. “Did you like your dress, dear?”

“Yes,” Lyanna narrowed her eyes. “How did you—

“I made it for you.”

“Oh,” Lyanna reacted. “It was the loveliest thing. I really liked—

“Lyanna heard the voices last night. The same voices I heard all my life. The same voices that followed me here from the Dreadfort. She doesn’t believe me when I tell her that it’s the Old Gods,” Ramsay stepped into the witch’s home more he helped himself to an apple.

“Is it true? You heard those same voices, summer child?” Freda asked.

“I heard someone calling my name. Over and over again. I looked out my window. I looked out by the weirwood tree. No one was around. I don’t understand any of it. It must be a trick. This has to be a trick. The Gods don’t speak.”

“Oh, but they do, child. Do you know why you’re named Lyanna?”

“Of course I do.” Lyanna scoffed and crossed her arms. “My father Robert loved a Stark girl named Lyanna. He wanted to name me after his true love, thinking it would do well to her memory. It only deepened my mother’s hatred for him.”

“But do you know who Lyanna Stark was?”

“I just told—

“No child. You told me why you were named Lyanna. You don’t know who she was. Lyanna Stark belonged to the North. Her body lays in the crypts of Winterfell. Her blood and flesh belong to the Old Gods now.”  
“What are you saying? That I hear these voices because I am named Lyanna? Does my body and blood belonged to them as well?”

“The Starks have ruled over Winterfell for centuries. Their dead is buried here for a reason. They washed their swords in the pond for a reason. Stark blood and the blood they draw belongs to the Old Gods. Now that Roose and Ramsay rule over Winterfell, their blood belongs to them now.”

“Including me?”

“Including you.”

Lyanna shook her head. “This is asinine. Complete shit. I understand that I have to renounce my faith for Ramsay’s, but not this. My blood does not belong to the Old Gods. I am not Lyanna Stark. I am Lyanna Baratheon.”

“Soon to be Lyanna Bolton, no?” Freda chuckled. “Call it what you will child. The Old Gods are calling to you for a reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” Lyanna’s eyes narrowed at the witch. Heat expelled from her nose.

“I don’t know everything, child. But perhaps another witch will. One who’s eyes have never failed her.”

“A witch who can see the future?”

“And the present and the past,” Freda smiled. 

“You didn’t tell me you knew another witch,” Ramsay said in between bites of his apple. “I want to see this seer. Who is she?” 

Freda smiled at Ramsay, knowing something he didn’t know. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t like the answer.”

“Don’t tell me what I like and don’t like. You don’t know me as well you think, witch.” Ramsay threw the core of the apple into the witch’s fire. “Who is this seer? I want to see her.”

Freda took a long look at the young pair before her. She noticed the growing bags under their eyes. Bright blue and green eyes demanded answers from her. What the young pair did not notice was the color they both wore: black. Freda smiled again.

“The seer you seek is Ramsay’s mother.”


	10. Drowned Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! How's it going? What do we think so far?

Ramsay sat next to Lyanna in the private dining hall. The evening had proved to be quiet for both of them. The only sound that gave them company was the crackling of the fire in front of them. Neither of them could believe what they heard.

“I want to see this witch,” Lyanna broke the silence.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I do.”

“I won’t take you.”

“You will.”

“Last night, you told me I was mad for believing in the Old Gods. Now you want to know everything,” Ramsay said. He sat back in the chair letting a slow breath expel from his lungs. A hand ran through his hair. “I am not going to my mother.”

“She has answers. That’s what Freda said. She knows why those voice are calling to us. Don’t you wish—

“My mother is dead.” Ramsay said. “She gave me away like a pig. That’s what I was worth to her. Pigs. I was too much for her. So, she traded with my father. My father gave her a pig farm. My mother gave me to him.”

Lyanna was left speechless. She heard of how bastards were treated in the south. She remembered the day her brother Joffery ordered the deaths of every suspected Baratheon bastard that could take his title. Some were boys who could smile and laugh. One was a baby slain in Petyr Baelish’s establishment. She knew bastards were looked down upon because she did the same. Bastards deserved nothing.

There wasn’t a bastard like Ramsay. He looked like a spitting image of his father. He had taken Winterfell from Theon Greyjoy and turned him to Reek. He had hurt people. She didn’t know of any bastard who was as powerful as him. 

Joffery didn’t earn the crown. It was given to him by her mother. Ramsay worked for everything he had and his stained name still followed him.

“I’m sorry. I just never heard of anything like this before.”

“You don’t have stories of witches down south?”

“My father was afraid of magic. He thought it was demented. Joffery was more of the same. Both claimed to be religious men, but none had ever prayed of shown the gods any gratitude.”

“King’s Landing is truly godless then?” Ramsay laughed. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before turning back to the fire. “It is getting to be late. You should rest.”

“What about—

“The voices? I wouldn’t worry,” Ramsay stood up. “The same voices call out to me. They’ve never harmed me. They won’t harm you.”

Lyanna snuggled into her bed slowly. Her ear trained on her window to listen to anything she could. The furs welcomed and warmed her body as she laid down. No voices called this night. The world was as still as the quill that laid across her sister’s letter. Myrcella was comforted by the sun in Dorne. Lyanna began to cherish the cold, dark nights that lulled her into sleep. 

Her heavy eyelids drooped until they stayed shut. Finally, without interruption or a whisper from the gods, Lyanna sank into her bed. Deep slumber took over her happily. No dreams of King’s Landing. No nightmares of the ghosts of the North. Just peace. It spread from her head to the tips of her fingers and her toes. 

“My lady!” Myranda shouted. Jarring Lyanna from her sleep. Her body shot straight up and looked at Myranda. 

“Myranda? What are you—

“We’re under attack, my lady!” Myranda closed the door to Lyanna’s chambers and rushed to her side. “We need to go.”

“What?” Myranda dragged Lyanna out of bed and into a dark cloak. She pulled the hood over her head. Still confused, Lyanna blinked slowly. Was this a dream?”

“Lyanna! Wake up!” Myranda snapped her fingers in front of her face. “It’s the Iron Islanders. They’re here for Theon. We have to hide you. Now.” Lyanna put the pieces together herself. Myranda had a cloak on too. A bow was strapped to Myranda’s back. A dagger was in her left hand. 

“My ladies. Where are my ladies?” Lyanna took a hold of Myranda before she could open the door. 

“I don’t know. I don’t care. You need to hide.” Before Myranda could make her leave, Lyanna grabbed the one useful thing her mother left her: the dagger.

Nothing lit the corridors as Myranda slipped Lyanna through them. All was quiet until they neared the kennels where Reek would be. Lyanna heard the yelling and the clanging of swords. Myranda kept a tight grip on her.

“This way,” Myranda ordered. 

“Where are we going?” Lyanna whispered, trying to follow her as fast as she could. Myranda stopped and pushed Lyanna away from a corner. Lyanna had experienced riots and a siege before. She knew someone bad was just around the corner. Lyanna backed away doing her best to not make a sound. 

Someone lunged at Myranda. It was too fast for a bow. Myranda sunk her dagger in the man’s thigh. As he cried out in pain, Myranda took out the dagger and sent the man falling. Both of you continued down the corridor. He wasn’t alone. 

Another Iron Islander had been behind him. Myranda’s dagger swiped at his face. He dodged it and swung at Myranda with his sword. She pushed you back and caught the sword’s blade on her arm. She winced. The pain in her arm spread. 

Which made Lyanna angry. No one hurt her ladies. Absolutely no one. The man swung again at Myranda and Lyanna pulled her back. He laughed at the pair. Myranda favored her arm, but her eyes were dead set on the man. 

She lunged at the man again with her right arm, attempting to sink a dagger into his thigh as well. When he dodged, Lyanna took her opportunity. Her wedding gift sliced the man’s throat wide open. It cut him like paper and left him gasping for breath on the cold ground. Lyanna grabbed onto Myranda and ran. 

Deep down inside the crypts of Winterfell, Lyanna’s cloak hid her well. She blended into the walls and graves. Then she saw her grave. She had a beautiful statue. A crown of blue roses donned her head. She held a long feather in her hands. Someone had left her that feather. Lyanna took cover inside her namesake’s grave, tucking herself just inside the wall.

“Myranda—you’re hurt. Stay here with me.”

“No.” Myranda refused. “I can move. I can fight!” Myranda winced and favored her arm once again. Lyanna pulled her just inside the wall. 

“Stay here with me,” Lyanna said. “It’s an order. You can’t disobey your lady.” Lyanna held Myranda as their bodies sunk to the ground in the crypt. Lyanna knew nothing about battle cuts and wounds, but she did know fear. Lyanna started to run her fingers through Myranda’s hair. She undid the simple braid she had, and continued to run her fingers through her dark hair repeatedly. 

Myranda started to sob quietly. Lyanna tucked Myranda’s head into her chest, silencing her.

“You’re alright. We’re both alright.”

Both of them waited there until a glimpse of light caught their attention. When both of them looked up, a shirtless Ramsay stood before them. His body had been cut several times. Blood stained his skin and face. A crazed look changed into anger when he realized who he was looking at.

“My girls,” Ramsay breathed out. “What in seven hells are you both doin—Myranda.” Ramsay caught sight of Myranda’s arm. She had held pressure on it, but Ramsay saw the wound. 

“What happened?” a dark tone sent chills down every spine.

“Ramsay. It wasn’t Lyanna,” Myranda said, sitting up. “It was one of them. The Islanders. I came to hide Lyanna, and they attacked us. Lyanna killed him.”

“You did what?” Ramsay looked at Lyanna. Both of them stood up and Ramsay caught sight of the beautiful dagger stained with blood in Lyanna’s hand.

“I killed them. Slashed his throat.” Lyanna said. Her eyes did not wander away from Ramsay’s body. They were fascinated in how many cuts he took without any armor on. Lyanna helped Myranda into Ramsay’s arms. Both of them carried Myranda out of the crypts and into a bed. While a maester took care of Myranda’s arm, Ramsay and Lyanna watched.

“I sent them away. The dogs scared them,” Ramsay laughed. “The kraken is fearful in the sea, but once it’s out of water, it’s useless.” 

“Did they take Theon?”

“No,” Ramsay corrected. “They didn’t take Reek. Reek was loyal. He shall be rewarded for his loyalty. He stayed in his cage like a good boy.”

“Good.”

The question dawned on Ramsay as the sun started to rise. “Where is your cousin?”

“What?”

“Your cousin, Markus. Where is he? Wasn’t he supposed to be protecting you?” Ramsay asked, staring her way. The question sunk deep in Lyanna’s stomach, making her sick. Where was her cousin? Why didn’t he protect her? He claimed to lover her dearly and yet, he was absent during her time of need. 

Lyanna’s eyes were set aflame. “Let’s go find out, shall we?”

Markus Lannister was brought before Lord Bolton, Kevan Lannister, Ramsay, and you. He looked well-rested, but peeved.

“I don’t understand what the fuss is all about,” Markus shook his head.  
“Are you not Lady Lyanna’s guard?” Lord Bolton asked him. “Where were you last night?”

“Sleeping like everyone else.” Markus spat. “The savages came after Theon, not Lyanna. She was under no threat.”

“No threat?” Lyanna spat. “They tried to hurt me. They wounded Myranda who guarded and shielded me from them! That was your job.”

“Myranda? The kennelmaster’s daughter?” Roose turned to Lyanna and Ramsay. 

“Yes, I’ve taken her in as one of my ladies. She protected me while he was sleeping.” Lyanna and Ramsay both stared daggers into Markus. Ramsay’s fingers itched. 

“Is this true?” Roose asked him.

“My lord, I don’t recall you or Kevan in the fight last night either.”

“Do you think the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Casterly Rock must jump into every battle that’s presented to them?” Ramsay asked. “It is their job to rule. It is your job to protect her. Unless you think I’m more dangerous than a group of savage sailors with swords.”

“I understand. I was in the wrong,” Markus raised his hands in a sort of surrender. 

“Understanding will not heal Myranda’s arm,” Lyanna spat. She was disgusted with her cousin. How could he sleep at night peacefully when Winterfell was being attacked? There was so much noise and yelling about. She doubt anyone slept through the night. “You said you were sleeping.”

“Yes, my lady, I was,” Markus said. “I want to apologize for my incompetence.”

“Your chambers are near the armory. How did you sleep? Ramsay said they went for the armory first. You must have heard them? How did they not wake you?”

“Well-well, my lady, if you must know I am a deep sleeper. Nothing wakes me.” Markus stumbled over his words. Ramsay caught on quickly.

“Your room was locked. I remember. One had attempted to get into your chambers, but failed. You locked it from the inside.”

“Doesn’t everyone lock their chambers at night?” Markus said defending himself.

“No. I trust the Boltons,” Lyanna said. She caught Ramsay’s sliver of a smile from the corner of her eye. “I think you’re lying. I think you were awake.”

“Does this really matter? I said I was sorry,” Markus rolled his eyes.

“You are charged with protecting your cousin, Ser Lannister,” Kevan said aloud. “Her very life was in danger and you don’t seem to care too much about it.”

“I’ve had enough,” Roose spoke. “This is not important in the grand scheme of things. I want to know how they got in and attacked us before Stannis finds out about a weak spot.”

Lyanna stormed off into Myranda’s chambers and stood by her side. Her ladies-in-waiting were thankful that they had locked themselves in the Allyis’ room that night. All four of them stayed by Myranda’s side, keeping her company. Lyanna smiled to see her ladies comparing childhood stories with Myranda. They told her of the hot sun and juicy fruit. She told them of the warm nights and playing in the snow.

Early in the evening, Lyanna noticed that Markus hadn’t been by her side all day. She remembered the common phrase in King’s Landing. Where to doe goes, the lion follows. This time the lion did not follow. In fact, he hadn’t followed her in days. 

She went to his chambers and knocked on the door. No answer. Lyanna knocked on the door once more. Her hand hit the wooden door making a hollowed sound. No answer again.

“Are you looking for your cousin, my lady?” Ramsay asked behind her. She flinched, and turned to see her betrothed leaning against a pillar. A flaying knife between his hands.

“Where have you taken him?” Lyanna asked, but not out of anger. Ramsay turned and Lyanna followed him. The dungeons in Winterfell were among the biggest in the North. They had enough room for Winterfell’s prisoners and the Wall’s deserters. Ramsay led Lyanna along the wide hallway until he stopped in front of a door. 

Ramsay opened the door and let Lyanna inside.

Markus hung on a cross. His hands and feet were tethered to it while his head hung low. Weakened breathing expelled out of him as if he was gasping for air. His blonde hair darkened while drops of water collected on the ground in front of him.

“What did you do?” Lyanna asked flatly. 

“He doesn’t realize that the krakens are dangerous. I’m reminding him that water is deadly.” Ramsay turned to Lyanna and looked upon her face. “Does this not please you?”

Lyanna shook her head. “It does please me. Drown him until he _understands_ his lesson.”


End file.
